Mycroft Vs Saxon in the Year that Never was
by StrangecatRamsey
Summary: Mycroft Holmes and his Brother Sherlock have never quite fit in with human society.Too smart.Too deductive and sharp.There powers of observation astounding.But it isn't until Mycroft butts heads with Harold Saxon that the truth is revealed.REUPDATED
1. Chapter 1

Mycroft Holmes and his Brother Sherlock have never quite fit in with human society. Too smart. Too deductive and sharp. There powers of observation astounding. But it isn't until Mycroft buts heads with Harold Saxon that the real reason for the truth behind their genius comes to life. They are the sons of a Doctor. Thee Doctor. And now they must face The Master aboard the Valiant in the Year that Never was.

WARNINGS Minor Swearing. Dont Own Any of this. Possible Slash later Thus rated T to M for later.

XXX

**1****st**** Chapter**

Mycroft Holmes had never much liked Harold Saxon. He had never been able to put his finger on exactly why he didn't like Harold Saxon, but he just didn't. Unfortunately been an astute political mind had forced him to smile politely at the man, his cool assessing eyes never revealing his true feelings to the man on the odd occasion that they had met. But there was something in that odd almost wild stare of Harold Saxons that let him know that he knew that he knew how he felt. And that shook him somewhat. There was something not quite human about him.

He'd secretly been conducting research on Harold Saxon. His history almost too perfect for the next PM. Even when he'd become Minister of Defense and they saw more of one another, Mycroft could clearly see that Saxon was heading for the Prime Ministers spot like a he was frankly too busy with Britain and his little brother to have to worry about trivial things like whom the next PM was. He'd been in his same position from one Prime minister to the next. He'd weather through he was certain of that. And he was also certain that if Harold Saxon wasn't quite human… Torchwood would be the first to let him know.

The first time that he had run into Saxon on his own had been…interesting. It had almost been as if he'd hoped to catch him on his way out. The way his fingers Drummed his fingers against his leg, his eyes scanning over him with an almost predatory gaze, and the utter and pure glee in his eyes as Mycroft gazed back at him in the same challenging tone. Before both were called away on business.

The first time they'd had a real honest conversation (and the last)was the night before the New Prime Minister of Britain's name was to be announced, Saxon had come through the office, walked straight through the door before Anthia could stop him, put his feet up on the desk and staring at Mycroft. "Come to dinner" He said. Not really asking or even ordering (though the tone brooked no arguing). Finding himself at one of the most exclusive restaurants in London (Which wouldn't have been odd if he had made the booking, however Saxon had. Obviously showing off his Power within London)

They had ordered dinner, eaten dinner and were sitting each with a glass of the best brandy the restaurant could supply. The small talk about business and the country. Swell as his little brother whom had somehow managed to find himself in the papers again. Saxon took an increased interest in his brother and family all through the evening to the point that it had become uncomfortable, Mycroft leaned back in his seat staring at Saxon as he drummed his fingers in the same beat over and over again obviously sensing the shift in mood from Mycroft.

"I do hope that you do not find me rude in asking what your interest in my brother and family is ?" He asked smoothly feeling comfortably full and content the company was the only exception to the exceptional meal, the drumming halting for a singular second before continuing "I must admit that I find you all so….oooh. Fascinating. You and you're brother aren't like anyone I've ever met " _on earth(would have completed the sentence) _If he didn't want to push risk his plans, knowing that Mycroft was that high up in government that he probably had his pristine fingers in UNIT and Torchwood.

Mycroft tilted his head in acceptance of these words wordlessly taking a sip of his drink waiting to see if Saxon would continue with his little speech but he seemed to be thinking of something. "You are standing for election. Shouldn't you be more concerned about public relations. What I and my Brother are or aren't is hardly any business of yours . I think that you are becoming to forward."

Saxon frowned for a moment the thrumming of his fingers becoming a tad harder. "You are aware of whom or what the Doctor is are you note _Mycroft?_" He asked a hint of steel in his voice. Mycroft felt his hackles rise at that. Wondering briefly if he was talking about what the government understood about the Doctor, or he'd been referring specifically to his own personal Experience. "I stand where the government stands where the Doctor is Concerned . Is this your attempt at Changing the subject?"

Harold smiled at him, all his teeth showing "I wonder if you know what a Time-Lord is" He asked into his glass as he took a sip watching Mycroft through hooded eyes before continuing. "I've always sensed that there was something…different about you Holmes. Both you and your Brother. Something not quite…human. As many of your acquaintances have come to say without realising of course. There is this….interesting beat within you. A different kind to humans. It makes me want to hold you down and take you apart piece by piece just to see how you work…like a clock. Ice-man"

Mycroft felt the danger and truth in every word, the thrumming of the beat the exact same though at top speed. "Which leads me to believe that both you and…Sherlock, Whom I have met by the way. Arrogant little shit. I rather like him. Reminds me of me. … I don't think I'd be wrong if you weren't the bastard children of my dear old Friend the Doctor." Mycroft stood from his chair glaring down at Saxon with venom. "I think that you are not well . I will not be insulted in such a manner."

Standing up lazily and sauntering over to where Mycroft stood his brain buzzing loudly a migraine forming behind his eyes in a split second. Feeling Saxon so close was unpleasant and dangerous. But he refused to back down. "Now now play nice. After I am elected Prime Minister. I'm going to kill all our little Political chums. Then I'm going to kill the American President and I'm going to take over and destroy the world as you know it and while I'm doing all that you're going to be the one to entertain me. I do have a horrible tendency of getting Bored" Mycroft stared at him, his eyes not quite registering disbelief. For he believed every word that was said. Frowning his hands clenched already working out in his mind what he was going to have to do to stop this, but the Master seemed to hear his thoughts probing to his very soul. Almost as if he were excited at the very prospect of having even a time lord half-breed to toy with again.

"I wouldn't do anything if I were you _Mycroft_. The world is about to become a very ugly place. If you try to foil my plans Sherlock will be the first to suffer. And I promise you he will scream to his last breath…then…mummy and Johnny-boy and then only after that…your golden boy…the one that you look at with such desire but never go near. Gregory Lestrade wasn't it? Scotland yard will cease to exist. The only reason I'll possibly let your little family live would be as entertainment and leverage against your dad…you're real dad. And if you fuck this up. You'll pay with their life's. And I will make sure you live the rest of your days remembering that. There is nowhere to run. Trust in your master Mycroft. Be a good boy And I'll make certain that you all survive this… "

Saxon dropped a large handful of notes on the table sauntering out like he owned the place. In this case he probably did. Mycroft couldn't let him do this. He knew that he had no choice. His family be damned. Sherlock and Lestrade be damned. He had to protect Britain. But no one was available to help. Everyone loved Harold Saxon even Anthia. And Torchwood was not available no matter what he'd tried. Unit was useless.

It wasn't until he awoke atop a gorgeous lush bed aboard what he instantly recognised as the Valiant, beside his younger brother that he finally knew all was lost .He tried and lost. Now all that was left was to find out the consequences of his actions.

TBC.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Mycroft hadn't thought for a second that Saxon could or would be such a sadistic bastard. But clearly he had underestimated the man. Sitting in an armchair, staring out the porthole down through the clouds, trying to imagine what earth must look like right now, by now having gotten used to the dimensions of the rooms.

Relaxed (as relaxed as one of his intellect might allow themselves to become) sipping a brandy that he'd not bothered to make absolutely certain wasn't poisoned before sipping it, not having died yet. The moment would be perfect. The furniture more than adequate for what he'd become used to. The high wingback chair perfectly supporting the arch of his back. Having sat there for the last week awaiting Harold Saxon. Receiving daily high quality meals, the suite outfitted with books , board games and all other kinds of entertainment.

Only three things lay in the path of this moment been perfect. The first and most blaring problem obviously been that he was in a floating 1st class prison above a planet he once made it his life to protect. The second least obvious and probably even less important, was the lack of his umbrella that still managed to leave a huge gap just where his shadow should have been, a security blanket in umbrella form.

But truly the one truly uncomfortable unpleasant thing, that if he were to admit that was a blessing and a curse. Was the fact that he'd just spent the week in the confines of a locked room with his little brother. He was certain that somehow in that deep dark twisted sick fucked up head that was Harold Saxons, this was some little twisted game hoping that he'd break Mycroft within the first week of his stay.

"._BORED_" He heard from behind him making him silently cringe. Of all the things that Harold Saxon could possibly have done to him. Placing him in a confined space with his brother had to be the worst thing he could possibly done. Wondering if this was a deliberate or if this was a fluke. The sound of his brother tuning his violin behind him(sure it should have been tuned by now). The screeching that had gone on for the last week made him decide that this was definitely an evil plot by the Prime Minister to drive him insane. He knew he should be grateful to have all this and KNOW his brother was safe. But with each pluck and pull of the violin strings, Mycroft could slowly feel his sanity slipping. The scary thing about it was that he did it in absolute silence. Neither commenting or glaring at his brother, sipping his brandy and looking down on the world that had once been his to run and rule.

"Might I suggest Chess ". Asked Mycroft in a disinterested tone hiding his irritation, though he suspected that Sherlock could sense it, and was trying to fuel it. "_You_ might. We've played chess. I am BORED" moaned Sherlock in perfect key with his violin. Mycroft briefly reminded of cats being strangled. "Well then you make a suggestion…and no I'm not interested in discovering how much material you'd have to burn to create enough smoke to asphyxiate us. Boredom, Experiment or no I don't think it's the best of ideas even on a normal day."

Sherlock went back to sulking and plucking at his violin like he'd been doing all week along with the constant insults and moaning. Mycroft longed to point out that he was better off up here than he was down there. He sincerely hoped that John and Greg were alright. He didn't want to mention them, and Sherlock seemed to have enough sense to not mention them.

Mycroft was beginning to think about allowing Sherlock to set fire to the room in the hopes that someone might actually come and see them when the door that had been sealed all the time they had been placed in the room actually slid open, a burst of music followed by Saxon waltzing in arms extended the fake smile he'd used on telly . "And you're master shall rest upon the 7th day. Forgive my Tardiness I've been rather busy as you could well imagine." He said not sounding sorry at all.

Mycroft who had been sitting at the window remained sitting at the window the book he'd been reading still in his lap. Sherlock still plucking at his instrument as if nothing had happened. Saxon took them in his smile slipping as he gazed at the brothers with something close to an incredulous glare. Before walking over to where Mycroft was, in a theatrical fainting motion fell into the chair opposite him staring at him as Mycroft remained with his book open not bothering to look up, fairly familiar with these antics after having lived most of his life with Sherlock's theatrics. A particularly loud screech from Sherlock's violin broke the tension in the room. Saxon smirking as Mycroft in deliberate motions, closed his book and placed it on his side table looking up at Saxon with no longer concealed dislike.

" Don't be rude. Please do say something Ice-man. It has been a week surely you have to say something for yourself." Asked Saxon looking far to smug, the level look he received from Mycroft wasn't what he had been hoping for but Saxon giggled in glee at this, Sherlock now seated on the bed staring at his brother and Saxon no longer bored but entertained by the new show before him. "What is it you want Saxon. Surely you can see that I was busy reading. "

Saxon frowned ever so slightly, tilting his head ever so slightly, reminded of Sherlock when he was younger wanting to dissect, take apart or tear into in a desire to take apart, remembering Saxon saying something like that to him. "My preferred Title is The Master, Ice-Man, even your father addresses me as The Master and I expect you to do so as well." Sherlock made a noise at hearing this, Mycroft had always said that they had been different. Remembering his father only at a young age, wondering what on earth was going on.

Saxon's gaze fell on Sherlock flinging himself out the chair and practically launching himself at Sherlock hands pinning his shoulders to the bed. "He's never told you has he Sherlock? Hmmm Never told you who your father was. Why you're so …different?" Sherlock's gaze drifted away toward Mycroft who'd by now sat up in his chair, fists clenched before shaking his head looking back at him with curious eyes.

Practically preening with glee at the curiosity read in Sherlock's face and sitting up his fingers tapping against the bedding looking down at Sherlock ignoring Mycroft a look that made Mycroft uncomfortable spread across Saxon's face. " You wonder why you are blessed to be different Sherlock. You are different because you're father was a Time Lord. You are better than any Human on this planet. And You are Bored…perpetually bored because of the fact that nothing on this planet will EVER satisfy you. Do you want to be satisfied. Do you want that constant voice in your head to stop. Do you want something to do that will finally silence you're brain. .want. A .real Challenge Sherlock?"

The swallowing noise from both brothers was audible both knowing that with an offer like that Sherlock would be unable to help himself. Mycroft looked at him imploringly. His normally stark face showing more emotion in that one second than in most of his life time, knowing that after a week of boredom it was pretty much guaranteed that Sherlock would take on anything that he would think of as a challenge. The almost unnoticeable nod of Sherlock's head was all that he needed. "Excellent. Good choice Detective"

Saxon stood up, doing a small jig, looking like were the cat that caught the mouse, spinning around to stare at Mycroft with something akin to triumph that read "I managed to put your brother against you" all over his face. Mycroft frowned sinking back into his chair trying to think. "Well Mycroft Holmes what have you decided." Asked Saxon in almost patriotic tone that grated on Mycroft's soul glaring up at him from his seat.

"I'm afraid I will have to decline if you don't mind _Saxon_. I have better things to do with my time." Replied Mycroft lifting his book back up in an attempt to read, only to find the book slapped from his hand, both men fully aware that Sherlock was in the room. "I told you to call me Master, Mycroft." Hissed Saxon right next to his ear, pinning him down with arms on either side of him, his finger once again tapping wildly at the leather of the chair, Mycroft mentally listed it as a tick to take note of.

"You cannot control what happens to you, but you can control your attitude toward what happens to you, and in that, you will be mastering change rather than allowing it to master you." Quoted** Mycroft his gaze unwavering waiting for Saxons response, the tapping slowing as his eyes narrowed leaning forward his lips brushing against Mycroft's ear making him shudder. "I'd watch that attitude of yours Iceman. I might not want to hurt your brother but I still have the entire earth at my disposal and an airship full of useless human life. The next words out of your mouth had better be 'Yes Master'" Mycroft frowned glaring at Saxon without looking away his jaw working, hands clenching tightly.

Answering coolly Mycroft prayed that he would be forgiven for this "I'm afraid I can't do that Saxon." The master growled standing up fishing out his sonic screwdriver, pointing it at Mycroft as Sherlock stood up to protest. Mycroft taking a breath getting ready to accept what ever would happen. What he hadn't expected was Saxon turning to point his weapon at Sherlock, a flash of blinding light struck out from the screwdriver before Mycroft could say or do anything . "WHAT DID YOU DO?" he yelled trying to stand up from his seat but being pushed back into his chair. "Teaching you a lesson. I might not be able to kill him but I can make both of you suffer. Now. Call me master or he wont just be unconscious he'll wish he were dead."

Mycroft frowned looking at his brother cursing his weakness with as much hatred as he possibly could. "I'm waaaai-ting ."sing songed Saxon,the feel of him this close to him was uncomfortable "Why should it matter what I call you _master_" Saxon smirked eyes half closing as if savouring the word.

"I am the master, and you are mine Mycroft. The whole world is mine present and future. The sooner you learn that the better. We'll be one big happy family. The doctor, his two sons and I. Our Time-Lord race shall populate the universe again. You are the closest to a time lord I have seen in life times Ice-man. If I have to break you before you become of use then so be it."

Marching to the door before swinging it open and calling to the guards to pick Sherlock up (gently and carry him away. Mycroft watched while standing beside his chair looking slightly lost. "I'll see you tomorrow Ice-man. I hope that you think about this." Phrased the Master in his most condescending tone. Mycroft muttering something about not being a child only to get scoffed at by Saxon. "I'm several hundred years older than you are Mycroft. To me you are just a child. And like all children you will push your boundaries. I do so hope that you'll be able to live with the consequences ." Was the only answer he got before the sound of his fingers drumming against something was shut out by the door sealing.

It was dark when Mycroft finally decided to retire. But then again he thought. He needed to find out what was going on and how it was happening. Prying open the dumbwaiter that they'd been receiving food from before looking up and down it deciding that it was probably easier going down than up, he slipped into it hoping to find some answers knowing that the room was probably under surveillance he'd be damned if he was going to leave his brother in the hands of a megalomaniac without knowing what was going on.

**Quote from Brian Tracy…seemed somewhat more than appropriate.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Cursing under his breath as he shimmied down the shaft of the dumbwaiter Mycroft decided that he should have perhaps added exercise to his diet. His legs stretched out in front of him, feet pressed against the opposite wall of the shaft, his back propped up against the wall behind him, he could feel a cramp developing in his foot, remembering why he jumped at the opportunity of a desk job the moment MI6 had offered it to him, and why he left missions with Torchwood and Unit to the foot soldiers where ever possible. It wasn't that he was lazy by any stretch of the imagination. It was more the fact that he knew where his strengths lay.

The fact that he was getting a cramp in his foot and the cable that helped the dumbwaiter operate was digging uncomfortably into his crotch were both minor inconveniences compared to the fact that his brother had just been removed from sight (knowing it was his own fault) by an insane megalomaniac out for world domination (again), and this time Sherlock WAS out of his league whether he knew it or not. Mycroft had no idea what he was doing or hoping to achieve, but it was better than sitting in his room waiting for something to happen at any rate.

Finally after what seemed like a good half hour Mycroft felt his back press against something that was fairly obviously a door, followed by a platform that allowed him to actually shift around to try and pry the door open, a part of him praying that this was in fact the kitchen of the Valiant as he remembered from the blueprints he had signed off on.

Managing to pry open the door with letter opener he'd found in his desk, he slipped into the kitchen silently, before slipping away behind a cooker watching several people at work, cleaning up after supper, the sheer volume of dishes made him wonder at the amount of people on board the ship, but that wasn't his problem right now. He needed to find Sherlock and make certain that he was safe.

Looking around the kitchen he'd just landed in, examining the workers; silently pressing himself against the wall and heading toward a door that happened to be close by, knowing that by now Saxon would have realised he was gone but there was nothing he could do about that, slipping out of the kitchen he took note of the face of someone he recognised trying to remember her name, Anthea had liked her…Tina….Trish…Tish? Tish Jones.

She instantly recognised him opening her mouth to say something but closing it quickly when he shook his head slipping out of the kitchen and closing the door behind him. The two other workers that shared glances with her must be related to her he realised without thought, Father and Mother judging by their ages. Not in the best of relationships but trying to get through hard times, he decided, wondering what her significance was but remembering he escaped for a reason and not knowing how much time he had before Saxon decided he needed to be brought in, he slipped into the bowls of the valiant.

Skirting around the corners and hiding in shadows he made his way upward deciding that Sherlock would most likely be kept on the upper levels. Forced to stop as he found himself at a T-Junction with an armed guard at the door, wondering if he'd somehow misread the situation and would find Sherlock on such low levels, his stomach turning hoping that he didn't cause Sherlock any harm.

Slipping toward the guard who was facing forward, he didn't want to risk getting shot at so soon, Especially since this was more a recon mission than a rescue mission, slipping out of the shadow, sauntering over to the guard before he even had a chance to blink,disarming him and knocking him out with 2 efficient moves, 1 would have sufficed, however he didn't feel like killing the man.

Opening the door dragging the unconscious soldier in with him and closing the door behind him before spinning around to take a look around the room only to come face to face with Jack Harkness, his eyebrow mimicking Jack's as it raised.

"No Great Coat Capt. Harkness? How disappointing."

"No Sexy umbrella Mycroft…has the world come to an end?"

Mycroft scoffed thankful for his ability to hide his blush looking around the room taking in the steam vents, metal grid flooring and Jack Harkness leaning against a nearby pillar, just off the shadow's surprised at the lack of security. It were almost as if Saxon was inviting disaster aboard his ship. Suddenly reminded of his own brothers experiments doing more harm than good.

"Last I checked? Yes indeed it has Jack. What pray tell are you doing here?" He asked turning back to the unconscious guard checking him for anything of use, ignoring the gun as they were always used in the last acts of desperate men.

"Fair enough. Captured with The Doctor. And yourself ?" answered Jack with his normal big smile pushing off the pillar and walking over to the guard taking note of Mycroft ignoring the gun and taking it for himself.

"Looking for my brother . Did you say that the Doctor is on board? Any idea where? " His desire to find his brother suddenly masked over by the need to see his father. The idea no more appealing than a face to face with the master right about this moment.

"Sherlock Holmes is aboard the Valiant? God help the master…Actually the man deserves everything he gets. Last I saw they were keeping him (The Doctor) on the deck. Any reason you want to see him?"

Mycroft decided that he'd wasted enough time if he were going to get to the deck of the valiant without getting caught, opening the door leaving it open for Jack. "I'm heading up then. I'd prefer if you didn't join me?" he asked checking the corridor to make absolutely certain that it was all clear.

"I think I'll go make a nuisance of myself in the engine room since you're heading to the deck. Be careful."

Jack left headed downwards as Mycroft headed up to the deck, surprised at how easy it was to get up there, having managed to avoid capture by the guards that were surprisingly useless, The security systems that locked doors but didn't hinder his walking around the ship, and once he'd actually managed to get to the deck after what felt like miles of walking, all he had to do was insert the security tag he'd stolen from the guard to allow him in.

He was sure that this was some kind of game that the master was playing with him, but he'd just have to play along to find out how it played out. What he saw on board the deck was a single old man in a chair, the deck empty otherwise. His stomach twisted as he realised that this is what had become of the man who had abandoned them so many years ago…

* * *

><p>"Doctor…" He asked at a loss of what else to say, gingerly walking over to where the ancient figure sat, looking forward passed him, a million things running through his mind as to what he wanted to say. All the things he wanted to tell his father, had run through his mind all in a second, wondering if this was even his father or if it was a trick.<p>

He was about to walk out of the room putting this as a lost cause and berating himself for following his own selfish needs rather than that of his brothers safety ,when he felt something that he hadn't since he was a child. Like a soft comforting blanket wrapping around him telling him he was safe however dangerous the situation was.

He couldn't help but glare at the figure in the chair, now under no doubt that this was his father. Walking back to the chair looking down at the man who dared to move his gaze to meet his. Every feeling he had felt over the lonely years. Everything he had wanted to say to the man seemed to ooze forth from him almost unwillingly until he couldn't help himself, it was as if he was been invited to tell the Doctor what he felt.

"She pined for you _Doctor_…After you left." Was all he could really bring himself to say. Knowing that he would know who he was talking about. His tone more steady and business like than he wanted or believed possible of himself. He wanted to continue his speech. Tell the Doctor how he'd been forced to raise Sherlock on his own. That after he'd left, his mother was no longer capable of looking after the pair of them. That she waited for him to return right until her last breath.

He wanted to tell the doctor how leaving had made both Sherlock and his life difficult. Sometimes even unbearable. He wanted to shout out at him, BEG him to tell him why he couldn't have stayed on a few more years at least, just so that he could teach Sherlock how to control his thoughts, teach him things that his brother never could have.

But most of all he wanted to tell his father. The Doctor. That instead of being an elder brother to Sherlock Holmes. He was forced to grow up almost immediately after he'd left. How he'd essentially lost his brother because he had to grow up into his brothers father. And how he possibly lost a life long friendship to the only other person on the planet that could ever have understood how he felt because of the fact that he'd abandoned his family. And how he nearly lost Sherlock to drugs because Sherlock didn't trust him.

The look in the Doctors eyes let him know that he understood all those feelings and that he was sorry for all of it. Trying to sooth him as well as show how sorry he was. The sentiment was hollow to him. The old frail body not moving. Suddenly all sensations and feelings left Mycroft making him want to scream, the sudden coldness reminding him of the 1st time he'd lost his father.

The sound of the door swishing open alerting him to the reason why he'd lost a connection, staying absolutely still as he felt Saxon invade his personal space, pressing against his back, his chin resting on his shoulder practically feeling the ridiculous pout that Saxon seemed to have permanently glued to his face right next to his chin making him pull a face.

"Oh how precious! Having a nice Father to son are we?" hissed Saxon in his ear the same irritating sing song tone, his back straightening ever so slightly, hands deliberately folded in front of himself still staring at the Doctor wondering what exactly he'd heard.

"Actually I was looking for Sherlock. I wanted to make certain his new accommodations were to his liking." He answered finally looking away from the Doctor to the Master.

Saxon pushed him forward scoffing, stepping forward to push his face closer to the Doctors. "I could clearly sense a discussion between the pair of you Miky." Mycroft could feel himself flinch at the term.

"Anyway on to more important matters. The kitchen Staff are revolting and there has been a breach of security in the Engine rooms. Any idea's _Miky_?" Asked the Master, Mycroft silently wanting to answer that he was the one to enslave the staff.

"I have no idea what you're talking about _Saxon_. Where is Sherlock?" He answered trying not to feel the slightest bit pleased to hear that Tish and Jack had been causing trouble …and not managing in the slightest.

"Oh Iceman. I do love it when you say my name. But only when you get it right. Sherlock is none of your concern. But I thought you might be interested to know…" Saxon pulled him closer hand wrapping around his throat, fingers tightening.

"The guard you knocked out was useless. He's been executed. His wife Susan and their two children Charlie and Emma. Ages 8 and 4. Have also been executed. And the several guards and their families that failed to stop Capt. Harkness getting into the Engine Room to _make a nuisance_. Have been executed. The next time I have to deal with the guards failures I'll make you pull the trigger do you understand."

Mycroft gasped his hand coming up to claw at the masters hand kicking backwards as the hand tightened to the point of him being unable to breath, he felt his world going black, the Masters arm wrapped around his chest holding him up. Just on the very pinnacle of passing out unable to tell how many seconds he'd been without oxygen, though it felt like hours. The Master released his throat allowing him to gasp for breath, his face tingling unpleasantly at the blood rushing through his face, his eyes itching.

"Please…_master_, is Sherlock alright?" he coughed trying not to show how much it hurt him to have been the reason for the deaths of so many men. Facing Saxon his throat feeling bruised, trying to read his face , though the way he seemed to savour the word sent chill's down his back.

"Normally I wouldn't tell you, but since you asked so nicely, He's fine. He has his own laboratory. In other words. Everything he ever wanted. And you never gave him! "Taunted Saxon though he seemed somewhat distracted, staring at his neck with great interest. Making Mycroft shift uncomfortable, which not many men had ever really managed to do.

"It took you 8 minuets to pass out. That's hardly normal wouldn't you agree Doctor?" Saxon asked not really addressing the Doctor. Mycroft now realised just why his throat felt so bruised. His hand coming up to gently hold his throat staring at the master as he seemed to make up his mind about something.

"Bed Time Miky. You've had a rough day. Tomorrow we will start testing to see how much of a Time-Lord you really are. And if you cooperate I'm sure that Sherlock's tests will be less unpleasant" Pushing Mycroft to the door while Frog marching him back to his room he tried to process all the information that had just been handed him, from Sherlock with his own Laboratory to the idea of being tested on and just what he planned to do to him.

It wasn't until his head hit the pillow that he realised that the Master had not stopped staring at him even as he prepared for bed. He suddenly felt sorry for Sherlock' collection of experiments that had always been kept under the microscope. He had no doubt that tomorrow was going to be a long day. Fully aware of the fact that the master was watching him fall asleep, the sound of tapping that always accompanied him seeming to echo in the room making him uneasy.

A warm feeling settled over his mind as he finally drifted to sleep. Though by then was hardly aware of it. If he had been awake he'd have wondered if it was the Master or the Doctor that helped to settle him. At that moment they were one and the same.


	4. Chapter 4

**Warnings for swearing, violence, blood …some torture…really long rants that may be unnecessary but its 3 in the morning so please do forgive me.**

**PS:**

**Thanks for the reviews and such. Really much appreciated.**

**Chapter 4**

Everything Hurt. Perhaps provoking the master as he had wasn't the best of ideas. However the Satisfaction seemed to far outweigh the cost. A small victory as he now lay in nothing but his boxer shorts on the icy floor of the Valiant, trying to catch his breath, watching finely crafted shoes pacing around as things were been thrown around ,crashing ,cracking ,slamming ,slapping ,sloshing and otherwise making a mess all around the (What had been) sterile room.

The day had started out simply. He'd been woken up much refreshed. Fed a precisely calibrated to the last calorie meal, with absolutely no taste and very little texture. He'd been told not to bother dressing and lead through the Valiant in the same boxers he was lying on the floor in at that moment and at the time a dressing gown.

He'd walked into a laboratory half expecting to find his brother, but had been sorely disappointed to find him elsewhere before been placed atop a plastic covered table, the feel of the room now at normal temperature as he examined the Master pacing around getting everything ready for the first set of experiments dancing around.

Mycroft had started to feel rather uneasy at the sight of the several syringes and other medical implements. The laser screwdriver that had been placed on the metal table willy nilly, he'd make an irritated scoffing noise, as he examined the rest of the room, crossing his legs trying to play an uncaring subject though he knew the Master by now could probably read his feelings.

"Really Master …" (He'd given up on the rather childish game of not calling the man master, deciding that he'd treat the name with an equal despondency that he might the title of a Dictator. The night before as he lay falling asleep it had occurred to him that he'd perhaps been going about this the wrong way, he wouldn't allow himself to loose as much control as he had over the last few days. Perhaps it was having Sherlock ripped away from him, or the week spent with him, but he was determined to show some form of control over himself If not grasping at control he couldn't obtain)

"Really Master…I would have thought that you would have at the very least been prepared for my arrival. This is hardly professional" Mycroft stated leaning back on the bed resting his hand on the bed while his free hand rested on his knee trying to give the impression of being calm. Observing the master at work.

"Everything was supposed to be prepared for my arrival. Looks like I'll have to have _words _with the staff again." He answered handing Mycroft a form with all sorts of questions on it. "Fill that in while I'm setting everything up there's a good boy"

Mycroft scanned through the list of things wondering if he even wanted to fill it in. Knowing full well that the master probably had his public (and secret) records and had also probably scanned through them if not thoroughly researched them before, his eyebrow lifting somewhat.

"Question 13 :Have you Eaten today… Question 23: Have you been out of the Country Recently… Question 41: Have you had any contact with intergalactic mind controlling parasites ... Master Is this one of Torchwood's old medical questionnaires…."the implied _Lazy_ at the end of the statement is left to hang as Mycroft leaned forward snatched a pen away from the master and filled it in without hesitation watching him out of the corner of his eye as he practically threw the questionnaire at the table with the sonic screw driver, waiting for the masters response.

"If asking whether I'd ever been probed was an attempt to 'Psych' me out ,I rather hope you'll forgive me if I were to inform you that your attempts are somewhat if not actually flawed." He had said casually having sat upright to stare at the master as he grunted trying to remain stoic though his face could tell his that he was clearly becoming irritated.

"Now now Miky, no need to assess everything. I thought your brother was the irritating one." Was his reply non too gently sticking diagnostic electrodes to his chest even ripping one off with a smirk when he'd decided it would get in the way taking a perfectly round cut out of chest hair along with it before replacing it with another and deciding that was in the wrong place as well.

Finally after what seemed like ages he'd set down putting on a ridiculous headlamp pulling his chair closer and getting out a small medical hammer he smirked up at Mycroft. Who simply rolled his eyes thinking that the Master had a screw loose though that was fairly evident feeling the tap to his knee, the reflex in perfect action watching the master jot down something on his notepad , suddenly reminded of himself humouring his baby brother when he'd first started teaching himself about anatomy.

The Master hummed softly to himself pushing the chair (on wheels) in the direction of the heart rate monitor turning it on watching it closely as a single line appeared, the humming stopping as a look of irritation crossed his face. "Only one heart then, or is there something you want to tell me Iceman?"

Mycroft snorted crossing his arms over his chest staring pointedly at the Master "Why don't you just use your screw-driver, this is human technology Master. The Doctor wouldn't have left us on earth if he wasn't able to hide evidence of his son's being not all human or risk some organisation like Torchwood or Unit doing experiments on us…or are you that incompetent that you can't even manage to read life signatures with it?"

It had become so painfully obvious that the master was becoming irritated, and a tiny small part of his brain was warning him that perhaps he should retreat for the day. But the other larger part of him, the part that he was choosing to use, the part that he liked to think of as his Sherlock side was trying to push the man and see where his limits were.

The masters face going from irritation to a mild smile before reaching for his screw driver pointing it at Mycroft with an almost uncaring flip of the wrist , several scrolling lasers shot forth from it, scanning over his body before giving back a reading that the master read with a smug smirk leaning back in his chair.

"Two hearts. Much better than one I always say. One is in stasis… Clever Doctor. I'll have to ask him how to undo it… Perhaps some shock treatment would work… Significantly larger brain than any humans. An Extra lobe… Alas no real details about regenerations and healing or possible breeding defects. There we go. Most of the information I needed in one scan…" Said the master looking somewhere between amused and contemplative.

"But where was the fun in that? " he asked brows twitching as he stood up grabbing hold of a scalpel moving forward pressing his hand against Mycroft's chest holding him still dragging the scalpel gently against his chest, from his solar plexus to his navel .A thin line of blood seeping from his skin as he stepped back to watch the mark as if expecting it to heal.

"Healing abilities sorely lacking. It's a pity I can't just kill you and have you come back like the freak. That would make this all so very easy." Said the master off hand, missing the way that Mycroft's face hardened. He'd always hated the term freak reminding himself that he wasn't talking about Sherlock.

"By freak I am assuming you mean Jack Harkness?" he asked coolly looking down at the scratch mark that seemed to have clotted quite quickly and wasn't really hurting, before slipping off the table coming face to face with the Master, who still had the scalpel in his hand. The master smirked at him drawing a second thin line of blood out of Mycroft's stomach this time a tad deeper than he had before daring him to say more.

"And why may I ask is that Master? What makes Jack Harkness a freak? Is it because due to situations out of his control he's become immortal? Or is it that he's a time traveller in our time? Or is it because no matter how much you throw at him he comes back smiling?"

Slowly sketching a 3rd line just beneath Mycroft's belly with the scalpel the Master shrugged focussing more on the blood slowly seeping from the 3rd deeper wound, licking his lips at the slightly strained tone in Mycroft's voice, the new line slowly oozing blood across the waistband of Mycroft's white silk boxers in a way that seemed to mesmerize him, wanting to draw more marks onto his skin but not trusting himself to hold back once he started, the inevitable tap of a finger against the scalpel started, the edge of the scalpel resting just at the start of his waistband answering in almost a dull, faraway tone.

"He's not natural. A freak of time. He shouldn't exist." Mycroft settled against the table staring at the master staring at the wound he'd just inflicted. He suspected the next wound might have his intestines on the floor in front of him if he didn't wake the master up from his thoughts.

"A freak of time? If anyone were a freak it would be you Harold Saxon. Master… Master really is an interesting term isn't it? As far as I can tell you have torn time apart in order to do what you've done. You've created a rift. You've destroyed earth and why Master? All for abit of fun? I doubt it."

Snatching the scalpel from his hand and placing it onto the table Mycroft moved forward in all his imposing glory, in boxers or no his face was truly cold and commanding. His eyes showing the exact reason why Moriarty had called him the iceman. The master stepped back as if surprised by Mycroft's sudden show of real strength. Stuck for a moment on what to do.

"You Master Saxon are truly pathetic in every sense of the word. You take over a planet why? For galactic domination. I would think that would be your main goal, but no. You're just so pathetic that you would do it for revenge. Upon the Doctor. He abandoned you like he's done everyone who's ever gotten too close to him. He destroyed…no desolated your home planet and now. Instead of killing the man. You attack a planet that hardly really matters in the scheme of things. Not to you…" Mycroft's voice was soft spoken, almost as if he were whispering a story to the master who had fallen back into the chair.

"And yes Master Harold Saxon. Revenge is truly a pathetic emotion when you. A Time Lord…One of the last of the Time-lords. Could be doing so many more important things. A tiny piddly little planet in the reaches of yesteryear should hardly worry a Time-Lord … You want revenge on an old friend…what did he do to you. Was he just a friend or a lover…fuck mate?" Mycroft asked tilting his head at the master his eyebrow raised as if truly interested, his eyes scanning the masters features for evidence of this.

"You want to make this the home of the Time-lords and rule the universe? HAH! I've seen the statues of yourself outside, I've seen the way your wife has battered eyes. You sir are grasping at power that we both know you have no real control over. You can't even control your wife! Just like you had no control over my father, the Doctor…the only other Time Lord in all of history and he wants you defeated. You call Sher…Jack a freak. When really you Master are a freak with no future and in love with a Time lord who'd rather fuck an ape and have children than **waste!** His time on you."

Mycroft knew he'd said too much when the Masters gaze had gone from confused and scared to hard and fierce but he didn't care, he couldn't. The master stood up grabbing his screw driver up pushing Mycroft away from him, his hand connecting solidly with Mycroft's cheek forcing him to stumble backwards the master standing up, straightening his posture pointing his screw driver at him lifting him off the ground before dropping him from his head height, grabbing hold of the the scalpel Mycroft had placed out of the way, lifting him off the ground with his screw driver making him hover with his arms extended and stretched, leaving him open.

The master marched forward grabbing hold of Mycroft's neck holding it as he placed the scalpel at his shoulder blade cutting a long thin stripe across it, stopping to watch it, Mycroft dazed trying to move but held fast.

"Master…." He groaned spitting blood onto the floor from his floor. Mind if I ask you to cut the other side…I'm partial to sleeping on that side."

The Master snorted moving across to the other side dragging the scalpel in a deep red line across his shoulder blade again, deeper but only by a few millimetres. Mycroft grunted his thanks trying to compose himself as 5 more lines were cut across his shoulder one below the other each deeper than the next, blood now dripping to the floor as the master finished up the next line.

Grunting Mycroft tried to curl his fingers into fists trying to escape the pain focus it elsewhere he was panting as the next line started to cut into the soft flesh of his back, his skin pulled tight.

"Ah …master what experiment is this?" he groaned as the scalpel stopped in place trying not to draw too deep a breath as it felt almost as if it were digging into his rib bone every time he breathed to deeply.

"We'll see how long it takes to heal each cut. Perhaps you can think about them healing. Meditate on it…I'd have thought you're _father_ might have shown you how" Suggested the master in a hard cruel tone as he finally put the scalpel down .

"Alas he left us before he could. Though I should thank him sincerely for sparing us from meeting uncle Harold. Inferiority complex…Megalomaniac…Wife beater…Psychopath…To be honest I could really imagine the Christmas party's. You and Sherly in the corner swopping chemical recipes. Dad and mom drinking eggnog beneath the tree whilst I try to fix what ever you two get up to…"

The 3 meter drop onto the cold metal floor stopped him from continuing his never ending rant. Sherlock would have suggested that he'd managed to bore than man to death. And now as he lay on the floor watching the Master throwing things around like a little boy who didn't get his way he wondered if hoping for death was a selfish act.

His body hurt, his mind was buzzing, and he was sure that when he landed from his last fall he'd heard something snap. His body so sore he wasn't able to identify what. When he'd finally passed out he felt that same warm presence settle over his troubled mind, he wondered if he was dying…then everything went black.

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

**Warnings: Swearing and some Blood.**

**Chapter 5**

_The previous evening:_

Sherlock Holmes had never been happier in his whole entire life and all he had to do was sell out his country and his brother to get exactly what he wanted. Standing in the middle of the laboratory the size of Essex (over-exaggeration but considering that for the last few years he'd been doing experiments in a poorly ventilated kitchen with scraps that could hardly be considered viable for experiments. It was to that proportion)

Now standing in _his_laboratory Tables, Bunsen burners, massive fridges from floor to ceiling, operating tables, laboratory grade tools, windows actually blacked out in one corner for sensitive experiments and bright on other sides. Shelf upon shelf of volatile chemical, his fingers itching to get to work. There were only 2 things that could possibly make this moment perfect and he'd make sure to let the master know what he wanted. He knew that this might not last forever but while it did he'd enjoy every moment of it.

"Is everything to your liking Sherlock?" came a smooth voice from the man who'd given him his heart's desire, leaning against a desk in the front , in front of a massive white board.

"Oh indeed it is Master, I require some things though. My body parts that had been in the fridge in baker street. I have invested a great amount of time in them. I'd like them and my skull and other experiments." Sherlock answered as he randomly moved from Bunsen burner to Bunsen burner turning them on to their highest flame giving the room an eerie bluish glow from the flames.

"Of course I've got everything in your new rooms waiting for you. Anything else?" he asked mildly amused at the way that Sherlock's fingers caressed the fridge door as he walked over to the chemical shelf picking out some putting them on the table.

"Yes. Fresh Body Parts. preferably from different demographics. Preferably a male and female of each race would work well. And I would prefer them to come from you're labour camps having died from …natural causes…starvation …exhaustion the norm. Stress from stabbing or bullet wounds would not do at all. It might damage the experiment if there's a cut across an organ I want to use. I'll require large vats of certain acids and other chemicals as well" Sherlock hummed deciding that making a request like that would set the master at ease.

The master grinned viciously at the idea obviously enjoying having a fellow psychopath to watch and speak with. "Of course Sherlock. I'd like to observe you're experiments as you go through with them, If that is all?"

Sherlock frowned thoughtfully as the master turned to leave shaking his head. "Yes actually 2 more things. I'm assuming that since I am here and my father was a Time lord you'll want to do some of your own experiments. Which I can respect. I'll give you all the samples you'll be requiring of course. Let me know if there is anything you require. "

The master smirked at this obviously appreciating the ease of things as far as Sherlock was concerned. "And the other thing?"

Sherlock smiled as he started to mix the chemicals that he'd fetched stopping for a moment to stare at the master with a firm gaze not unlike his brothers. "Bring me _my_ Doctor."

XXX

Mycroft groaned loudly as he felt fingers prodding at his shoulder groaning and wrapping his arms around the surprisingly comfortable pillow in front of him trying not to whimper as a long nail dragged along the deepest of the cuts making his groan turn into a low warning growl, surprised to hear a yelp and the weight on the bed shift off it.

Finding Lucy Saxon on his bed was not what he had expected. Watching John Watson standing beside next to her gripping her arm and pushing her toward the door before pushing her out of it definitely wasn't what he had been expected. His heart panged thinking about the last time he'd seen . and D.I. Lestrad and he had managed to escape out the door of the Café before the entire side wall had collapsed leaving Sherlock and himself trapped in the rubble before being collected by an angry Master yelling about killing the entire reason they had been there.

He closed his eyes taking a deep breath before gaining composure staring at John as he dabbed gently at the cut mark that had started to leak as tampering with the wound.

"John…" He croaked his voice feeling unused and rough his mouth feeling dryer than he ever remembered it ever being.

"You've been asleep for a 3 days . I was starting to believe you'd never wake up. I was fairly close to putting in a feeding tube. Would you like something to drink?" said Johns voice in a soothing almost cheerful tone as he pulled a glass toward him helping Mycroft sit up to take a sip groaning at the pull at his wounds as he sat up.

"3 days…when did you arrive here? Where you here before? Have you seen my brother….I… Lestrad?" croaked Mycroft as a plaster was placed across his cut, slowly sipping the water looking over his shoulder still shocked at John being here though now more composed.

"2 days ago roughly abit more. I could use some tea. I'll get you some brother. Your wounds have healed miraculously quickly. Its just the last 4 lines I'm afraid are taking their time to heal." He informed getting the pot boiling on the other side of the room before returning to help him lie down on his side again.

"As for Sherlock. Last I saw him he was elbow deep in a corpse muttering to himself about freshness, and Lestrad…is here… He's head of security on the valiant actually… He was taken with you though. I don't know what the master was playing at." Replied john trying to keep himself from sounding irritated returning to the pot to make some tea sitting back down placing Tea within his reach.

"You have a broken ankle which is healing a lot faster than normal but it will take some time." Mycroft wasn't really listening as he thought about Greg taking that particular job wondering what the master had threatened him.

Thinking of the Devil the master appeared in the door looking irritated storming toward the doctor who'd set his cup down at the sight of him, pressing himself against a nearby wall frowning.

"Did you touch my wife Doctor?" he asked pleasantly enough as if not really caring about anything other than the fact that his property was touched.

"She broke open one of wounds that you ordered me not to touch. What did you expect me to do?" he answered calmly looking over at Mycroft who had sat up on the bed watching the two of them with interest, shifting back as he cursed marched over to Mycroft flipping him over to view the marks, pushing him down more firmly a frown creasing his forehead before letting him sit up again glaring.

"You could have asked you do realise this" questioned Mycroft knowing it was like talking to a brick wall.

". Return to Sherlock I think you are done for the day. Please send him my regards and let him know that his supplies are to be delivered." Dismissed the master pushing Watson out of the door much like he'd done with the masters wife before turning on Mycroft who was still on his belly, tea forgotten staring up at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"Watson and Lestrad. Collecting our friends are we? " Mycroft asked as the master returned to poke and prod at the cuts with disapproval tutting at the last cut wanting the experiment to have been perfect.

"Lucy's going to be punnniiished" he sang to himself ignoring Mycroft who was becoming irritated with it.

"You realise that her being a near brainwashed zombie with a blood fetish is all your fault right master? You cant blame a dog for biting if that's what you trained it to do." Suggested Mycroft mildly surprised at the sudden firm grip at the back of his neck pushing him into the mattress.

"I think you've said quite enough for now Miky." The Master Growled fishing something out of his pocket pulling him up before forcing his jaw open and placing a plain rubber ball in between Mycroft's lips.

" I nearly killed you as a result of your little tantrum , I think that should remind you not to speak unless spoken to." Mycroft fought an extremely strong urge to spit the ball out the master pulling out a large syringe spinning Mycroft around onto his back ignoring the wince , before drawing blood from him giving him a firm displeased look that a strict father might give his son. Mycroft hated been patronised though he kept his face neutral even though he suspected that the master could feel his emotions.

Smirking the Master petted Mycroft's cheek enjoying the full look of his mouth more for the reason that it pissed Mycroft off than anything else. "Now, now , no need to take that tone with me Mycroft. I'm very, very tempted to put you over my knee. You've been behaving very badly of late. Lucy isn't the only one in need of punishment is she?"

Feeling his stomach crash at the idea his face obviously reading his displeasure at that idea the master smiled pocketing the blood before smiling at Mycroft in a big toothy smile "Maybe I'll just destroy another 10% of the population…oh don't give me that look we both know that 10% of less is even less than the initial amount. I'm being lenient"

If looks could have killed the master would have been a puddle of goo on the floor "I'll let you know about you're allergies tomorrow Iceman as well as my decision on your impending punishment. That look isn't helping to change my mind." The master stood up as Mycroft dropped his gaze sniffing in displeasure as the master placed electronic reader before him giving him a hard look.

"Since you are useless to me until you can walk again I expect you to have read the first 8 chapters in this book before the end of tomorrow evening. I want you fully versed in telepathy and hypnotisation by the end of your time with me. If you have managed to learn the 8 chapters by tomorrow then perhaps I'll tell you what's happened with your precious Lestrad."

Mycroft managed to spit the ball out right at the Master as he picked up the electronic reader deciding to turn his mind to more pleasant things. Chuckling could be heard from the other side of his new bedroom's door before a scream followed and then it sealed shut as it locked out the noise completely.

TBC…


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry that took so long.**

**Warnings for blood and cold blooded murder and Gratuitous use of famous Mycroft quotes.**

**Chapter 6**

Mycroft awoke with a start. He hadn't expected the master to be in that early. But looking through at the doorway confirmed it was him and only him that was standing present. The desire to throw his pillow aching in his hand as he grunted his displeasure until he took note of the fact that the master was covered in blood and gore from the tip of his head to his shoulders and arms, and from his knees downward. A curious shape of clean fabric showing that he'd obviously been wearing an apron at the time.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow staring him up and down as a wheelchair was brought in from behind him handed to the master who prompted him to get in. He did as told, careful with his ankle as he moved from bed to chair aware of the fact that he was in his pyjama's but with the master covered in someone's blood he wasn't sure the master was stable enough to talk to at that moment. Watching the corridor as he was being wheeled up wondering if the master was going to say something or if he should.

"Did you finish all 8 chapters as I requested?" The master enquired as if this was a normal day. The politeness in his tone betrayed by the irritable tap of his finger on the handles of the wheelchair. Mycroft would have wondered where the wheelchair had come from and would have deduced the reason if he wasn't completely focussed on the strange man behind him.

"Yes of course. In fact I'm half way through the book. I imagine that Sherlock is further along than I am? He normally forgets to sleep or eat when something that interesting crosses his table, but I'm sure you already knew that" he mumbled sitting up in the chair as they walked passed the Deck of the Valiant further onward toward the door that obviously lead outside.

"Very good Mycroft. It's amazing what you can accomplish when given the right incentives." Mycroft frowned slightly not sure he liked the way that the master said his name the tone being utterly patronising, to the point where he had to bear down on his teeth and nod politely noting without amusement that usually Sherlock was the only person to get him to do such a thing.

"Talking about incentives. I believe that I promised to punish you today. I've decided that we'd deal with it before I give you a reward for being such a good boy and doing your homework." Mycroft frowned wondering what the master had in mind, silently hoping that he'd been joking about 10% of the remaining population finding himself on the roof of the valiant looking down on the world below wondering what he had in mind.

Mycroft swallowed as he looked down as he recognised a camp full of people, looking over at the master with what he hoped was an impassive face, trying not to betray himself.

"And what is my punishment Master?" he asked lips barely moving his heart beating hard in his chest already suspecting he knows what it is, hoping that the sarcasm that he was trying to get through in his tone was coming through.

"Since I'm such a nice master I'll give you three options actually." Said the master cheerfully removing his jacket leaning against the railing Mycroft getting a sudden urge to shove him but deciding against it, the master would probably have been expecting him anyway. Mycroft stayed impassive awaiting his sentence.

"For the crime of provoking your master to the point that he actually nearly killed you. And this is a major crime I may add. You and your brother are second phase of my Time Lord empire when this year is up and I have done what I need to. After several tests I concluded that you are both more Time lord than human…"

"And once I start to do genetic experiments you are going to be my base specimens as we seem to be lacking. I also need Generals to lead my armies. Once you are properly housebroken I'll entertain that thought. But for now… to punishment."

Mycroft hadn't fully been paying attention to the masters speech, Focussing more on his clothes trying to deduce who'd have produced that much blood. In the back of his mind he knew it had to be Jack but he couldn't know that for sure. Perhaps it wasn't just someone but someone's. His mind returning to itself as the Master seemed to be actually coming to a point his polite disinterest showing on his face. Christ but the man seemed to love the sound of his own voice. Politely raising his eyebrow he waited for the options.

"I thought perhaps a simple beating would do. But again. You already provoked me into beating you. I don't like mind games when I'm not in charge of them Mycroft. I think we need to set boundaries for our relationship to work… For all you're little acts of deviance you should be punished"

Mycroft ignored the urge to roll his eyes, mind starting to drift from the conversation once more focussing on the ground below them.

" First Option: I kill off 10% of the population like I promised and you live with the knowledge that it was your doing." Mycroft made a noise, he knew they both knew that this was hardly an option. He glared at the master not looking away this time subconsciously holding his breath.

"Second Option: I select a small group of about 5 people and hand you a gun and you kill them one by one." Mycroft felt his heart sink just a little though he didn't show it. Waiting silently for the 3rd option hoping that it would be better than the first 2. Knowing the master was capable of any of them.

"and the final Option my dear Mycroft. You go down to Earth and Select a child. You personally bring it back up here and I tell you how to kill it." Mycroft's eyes went wide, unable to go anywhere he truly felt trapped. He'd half expected an offer of torturing Jack or allowing himself to be humiliated. It was a choice between the lesser of 3 evils. He merely had to choose the option that he himself could live with.

He levelled his gaze with the masters standing up with a slight wince walking to the edge wondering if flinging himself off it would result in more punishment. "Master please…be reasonable."

The master snorted walking over to him a grip on his shoulder letting him know that jumping wasn't an option. "Choose or I'll choose Mycroft. This is for your own good."

Frowning he shifted closer to the edge his head hanging. "Which 5 people would you like me to kill if I go with option 2 master?" he asked cursing himself as week for not being willing to kill one person in place of 5 but when it came down to it. Choosing the child and submitting the child to the masters sadistic nature through him, he could never do it.

The master grinned as if he knew that he'd be asked that. "Predictable" he sing-songed summoning the guards out with a group of people…only 4 Mycroft noticed staring at the master eyebrow raised. "play along Miky" sing-songed the master in his ear before dancing around the 4 men and their guards. Pushing each onto there knees in various cruel ways before sending the guards to their respected exits. Mycroft kept his face neutral waiting for the inevitable speech.

"Ah so many men so few bullets." Said the Master as he calmed himself enough to address them. "My second in command here. in case you were wondering who your executioner would be today. Has been informed that you gentleman raised all hell on earth yesterday. Blew up several supply trains. Blew up a few of my statues as well." Pouted the master in such a ridiculous manner that Mycroft had a strong urge just to get the gun out of his hand and finish the men off there and then, It would be the merciful thing to do ,rather than force them to sit through another one of the masters speeches.

"You also blew up a Power Station because it had been accepting aid from the valiant. How very foolish of you. cannot abide such behaviour. He likes a well-oiled country and it is people like you who need to be removed." Mycrofts ears perked at that. Power Station…clever. He frowned at them his gaze stern. He knew the master was playing some kind of game with him. He wouldn't kill these men for their stupidity. He'd kill them because they got caught and it was their fault they were here not his.

"What do you think we should do with them ." he asked eyebrow raised gun still in hand.

Mycroft tilted his head staring at each one in turn. Each shaking and scared not looking at him. "It depends I was informed that there were 5 misguided fools Harold. Where is the 5th?" He asked in a calm passionless tone.

Tilting his head trying not to laugh all that manically the master looked down at the floor as if looking through it. "In the engine room impaled on a pole being roasted alive. I was with him earlier but I had an appointment with you I had to keep."

Swallowing he limped forward the idea of shooting Jack again wasn't all that pleasant but he had learned a long time ago that caring wasn't an advantage. Taking the gun from the master he walked down the line to stand in front of the first man who was quacking on his knees. He vaguely accepted that if he were an insane onlooker he'd be laughing to himself about the fact that a man in PJ's and a foot cast was making a man literally cry.

"Blowing up a power station is foolish. Especially if it helps your fellow man. Justice at the hands of Harold is usually more painful and you should be grateful for his mercy. " Mycroft pressed the gun to the top of the mans head and shot him. The man flopped forward just in front of Mycroft. _Caring is not an advantage._ He reminded himself.

"Humans are truly just ants needing to be lead, or they would all destroy themselves. Pathetic" he said in an offhand fashion reminding himself that he'd done far worse things in his time as the British government this shouldn't bother him. But it did. _Caring is not an advantage._

"Think for once. Perhaps you wouldn't be in this mess in the first place if you hadn't defied the master." The words strangely ironic to him as he placed another slug into the 3rd mans brain. The last one looking so much like Sherlock. A shock of Curly dark hair, Thin and fine features. He was sure that this was deliberate. _Caring is not an advantage_

Holding out the gun he said a silent prayer to himself, almost wishing that he put the slug into his brain rather than the nameless Sherlock look alike. The cost would probably more than he could bare even after he were dead. "What is your name boy, how old are you?" He asked smoothly cocking the gun as if it ere an entirely normal.

"N. s..sir.. 21 please don't!..."

Mycroft frowned knowing that he probably just got caught in on an action, but such things came with consequences, this was Norman's fought not his "Gladius Iustitiae celer et acer est"

"Wha…" the shot rang out so loudly it almost startled Mycroft who merely looked down at the boy answering to the corps in a monotonous uncaring tone.

"The sword of Justice is swift and sharp Norman." _All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock._


	7. Chapter 7

**WARNINGS: Torture , Violence, mind fuck, darker than previous chapters.**

**Chapter 7**

The last thing that Mycroft had expected as he finished shooting the last man was seeing Gregory Lestrade marching toward him with what could only be described as a pissed off look on his face. He'd turned the gun dropping to his side, about to say something only to get a mouth full of knuckle, knocking him back a good few meters.

This was the masters doing…clearly, "YOU ARE JUST AS BAD AS HE IS HOLMES!" he heard Lestrade yell at him, he forced himself not to flinch trying to remain passive.

"I think that you misunderstood what happened here Greg" He answered hoping his voice didn't sound too pleading, staring at him hoping he would at least give him a chance.

"DON'T LIE TO ME! I saw! I heard what you said to them! You're his second in command are you? YOU'RE WORSE A FREAK THAN YOUR BROTHER" Lestrade yelled. Mycroft did flinch this time. The guards had grabbed hold of Lestrade so that he wouldn't attack again. Mycroft didn't want to reveal how much that hurt, surely Lestrade could see he didn't want to do this. Then again he knew his mask hid his emotions far to well. This was his own doing.

The guards lead him away before anything else could be said and done. Mycroft stood staring blankly in Lestrades direction. This was the masters fault. He'd just lost something dear to him, and if he showed it the master would pounce. Never before had he felt like letting his mask slip and reveal his feelings.

Mycroft frowned,sniffed and only becoming aware of the master again as he felt the gun being pulled from his fingers. Not bothering to look up at the master he merely limped back to his chair sitting down looking distantly into the horizon impassively.

"A natural born killer Mycroft. I'm impressed." The master murmured in his ear getting not an inch of response from the man, who allowed himself to be wheeled back inside all the way down to the engine room where he saw Jack no longer impaled but a mass of scorched skin healing, hanging from chains like a spit roast lamb. He felt sick. The master handed him back the gun.

"Have fun" The master sing-songed walking out the door turning out the light and leaving him waiting listening for any signs of life.

The gasp for breath let him know that Jack was awake at least, he was about to say something but then the screaming started. He wanted out of there. It was too dark and the screaming was unearthly hurting his ears, It felt like that of screams of a million people being killed all at once.

He bravely ignored it for the 1st half hour but it soon became too much and he soon found himself shooting into the dark at approximately where Jacks head was.

The screaming stopped for a few minutes before the breath came back and more screaming in the dark. He shot again until he was half way through the cartridge of bullets wondering what would happen if he run out? Save the last one for yourself .

It felt like hours before Jack finally stopped screaming though he was breathing heavily. Mycroft felt relieved at least now they could talk or something. He heard Jack make a noise about to ask who was there when a fire lit from the floor without any prompting right through the grates. Mycroft fought back a whimper as the screaming started again.

He'd stopped trying to end the screaming curling up on himself merely ignoring it, trying to escape into his mind, but every time he even came close to it the screaming would intensify. It was even more difficult to focus on ignoring it when his mind kept drifting to Lestrade. The man was right, he was just as bad as the master. He looked over at Jack unable imagine the pain that Jack was going through all he wanted to do was stop it just to give them each a moment to breath.

Every time Jack was healed enough to stop screaming, the fire beneath him would light and the screaming would start the moment that Jack came back to life. The quiet moments in death were probably savoured by the pair of them. The screaming having given him a headache right between his eyes. Concentration impossible

He didn't know how long he'd been down there with just Jack for company. He recognised the fact that he was dehydrated and hungry. The headache probably a result of both. He was still in his wheelchair and he'd lost count of the amount of fires that had been lit beneath Jack now. The entire room stank. He felt like the smell of burning flesh would forever be pressed into his skin and nostrils.

And worse still that warm presence that had been in his mind over the last few weeks seemed to have deserted him. He was alone and felt lonely. In his bedroom he was able to escape his own thoughts. But down here he thought of his cosy little office with Anthea and her blackberry, hot tea and perhaps a sandwich. A nice chat about what his brother had been up to. Or maybe a jaunt down to the local pub to meet with Lestrade, a quick pint and some dinner before retiring for the day into each other's arms, where for once he may let his mask slip…He even missed his rows with Sherlock.

It must have been a full two and a half days since he'd been left in the room. He'd been sick a few times and was beginning to drift away, when the door finally opened to reveal the Master. Jack had stopped screaming as he hung completely naked from the chains. This time the fire hadn't been lit. He hoped that it would be over.

He felt the gun removed from his fingers, unaware of how tight he'd been holding it for so long. He'd ended up using all the bullets on Jack, trying to offer him some escape but it never lasted. He was wheeled out without a word and lead back to his rooms, cleaned with something that must have been industrial cleaner, and put to bed with a cup of weak tea and some toast.

It felt nice and comfortable in his rooms. The screaming still ringing in his ears, and the smell still lingering in his nostrils, but at least he was in his rooms where it was safe. The master had ordered him put on a drip and sat down to read while he became comfortable and finally fell asleep.

Sometime in the evening he'd woken up to feel a solid mass sitting behind him holding him close, not sure how that had happened but he instantly recognised it as the Master. He would have frowned if it wasn't what he needed at that moment, yawning and stretching he looked up to find the master staring at him clearly amused with himself.

"I know what you're doing." Mycroft mumbled using elbows and sharp body parts to dig his way more comfortably against the master smirking as he winced. Wondering what the master thought gave him the right to climb into bed with him.

"Really? You were having a bad dream…Care to enlighten me as to what you think I'm doing?" murmured the master putting down his book that he'd been reading.

"You took away my friends, put me in a situation that forced me to focus on my own needs, and now you are playing on my insecurities because you've made me vulnerable." Mycroft yawned getting comfortable before drifting toward sleep.

"Does it matter to you if it's true?" asked the master picking his book back up pretending to read it.

Mycroft sighed softly resting his cheek against the masters shoulder thinking. "Probably but I'll worry about that later." The warm sensation resting in his mind was back. He decided that it must be the master.


	8. Chapter 8

**Warnings: Slash. Noncon. Violence. ****DEFININIT M rating.**

When Mycroft had woken the next morning, to find the master gone and John back fixing his drip and finally removing the ankle cast that had miraculously healed over night, he almost (ALMOST) felt at a loss, but aside from johns visit he'd been left miraculously alone, he made a point to study through the files of books the master had left for his perusals. Made careful notes with regard to points he needed to research further, and found further research material by requesting it on the electronic reader that he'd been presented with.

But it became lonely again. Not that he would normally have complained or even shown his problem with it, but after spending so much time listening to Jack screaming unable to focus on anything but it or himself he found that lack of company was tedious, even having something to focus his mind on didn't help. He hated to admit it, but he was in fact… "BORED" no matter how much it irked him to admit it.

The planet beneath him full of people that he never even knew the names of, now suffering under the hand of a nearly extinct species from a long forgotten place in a long forgotten time. Living from one moment to the next. The only real thing that he knew about his fellow Humans (well the 50% of him that was human) was that humans much like rodents and cockroaches had a habit of surviving. And when disaster hit and the worst happened. It tended to bring out the best and the worst in people.

Worse than the fact that he'd been left alone (the master must have been busy) The meals he received after the first few days became erratic. The Porthole in his room had been sealed off from view and there were no timepieces in his rooms. The Valiant floating through the sky seemed to move at its own pace, the entire ship seemed to strum with life. It was never quite even though he couldn't ever see it. All slave to the masters whims.

He'd received breakfast and lunch at the same time, or not at all and dinner what felt like a day later. Just long enough to leave him unpleasantly hungry. He'd receive 3 breakfasts and then a dinner before a lunch, He supposed it was nice to know that the master was tending to his insanity even though he was unable to tend to him himself.

He supposed that this was how Sherlock felt when he turned to drugs and away from his brother finally thankfully to being a Detective…consultant Detective and Watson. Pacing restlessly around the room while reading his electronic reader(which notably didn't have a time reference), for what seemed like the millionth time, his ability to memorise anything and everything playing against him this time around.

Dinner had arrived after a breakfast that had been served over 18 hours ago. Just long enough for him to worry that he'd been forgotten, not that , that was possible but it still felt odd. After dinner arrived lunch arrived soon after, Mycroft had anticipated something like this, fully dressed in his preferred suit, jacket and tie, along with a long overcoat (that he frankly felt had no place in his cupboard both garishly ugly in a dustbin green plastic fabric) pulling the plate out and slipping into the dumb waiter again deciding that the master must not mind him wondering around the valiant if he was allowing such mistakes.

The trip seemed somewhat shorter than it had been the last time, though this time he only had to sit and wait for the door to open. Slipping out of the dumbwaiter finding 4 armed guards waiting for him. A small pleasant smile falling on his features, before allowing them to lead him back toward his room, only to slip away as soon as they started to turn a corner. Walking easily toward the Deck of the Valiant, enjoying the chance to stretch his legs.

He felt…ridiculously as if he had stumbled into a Scooby-doo scene(The thought dragging him off to a time when tiny Sherlock had still watched TV , able to desert the plot of a cartoon with alarming accuracy. (this was an incredibly short period in time that Mycroft thought perhaps he should have relished)), Walking around with armed villains trying to capture him, missing him by a doors shutting, passing one another without actually meeting.

He'd finally decided to sit and wait once he'd gotten into the security room's ( rather simple numerical 12 digit code system ), sitting down in a large chair that felt so plush that he imagined it to be the masters, viewing the hundreds of screens before it, showing the hundreds views across different parts of the ship and more strategic locations on earth. Feeling sort of at home as if he'd just stumbled into his old offices again. All he was lacking was a cup of tea and Anthea's tapping on her black berry.

He'd of course sank into the chair not really caring if there was anyone around, he hadn't really been expecting anyone other than perhaps a security stooge or if worst came to worst the master. He hadn't been expecting the feel of a hand around his neck as he sat trying to find the screen that showed Sherlock and to make sure that they were indeed alright.

The hand wasn't as cold as he expected either, the hand was definitely human, what was more was he recognised the touch immediately. Which he admitted to himself ruefully, wasn't something he could often think to himself.

"Greg…" he tried to turn his head but was met with a steely hold that just wouldn't budge. It would be easy to remove himself from it, however there was a large chance he would hurt the man, and he didn't actually want to.

"Shut up Mycroft. Thanks to you disappearing the way that you did, several of my men are dead" growled Lestrade in his ear, the only reason why he hadn't internally flinched was the fact that Lestrade wasn't grasping his neck as hard as he could have been, the grasp turning more into a gentle hold fingertips almost caressing his jugular as if trying to sooth him, the desire to turn around and make utterly certain that this was Lestrade and not the Master messing with him.

"The masters been killing my people left right and centre! Just because you were a hotshot before doesn't give you the damned right to mess with peoples life's" Lestrade growled at him clearly infuriated with the situation, his tone and grasp however conveying that it was all right he understood. The fact that there were eyes and ears everywhere on the ship probably provoked Lestrades treading so carefully.

Mycroft had to stifle a gasp as he was lifted off the chair by Lestrade, before pressed against the control panel and having cuffs placed around his wrists stopping himself from struggling as he was tugged toward the door, meeting Lestrades eyes for a moment, finally relaxing to see warmth in them instead of hatred. The man looked a little underfed but other than that in perfect health. He wondered what the master had on him something personal… perhaps family he thought not wanting to think about that.

"Where are you taking me Lestrade?" he asked as he was tugged toward the door as it opened easily before Lestrade his voice its normal icy tone.

"Your room. The master has already been informed of your capture. Best to save as many life's as possible you know." Replied Lestrade pushing him against the wall as he changed the key combinations to make sure no one could enter…Mycroft tried not to roll his eyes.

"Take me directly to the master's chambers. I'm tired of this waiting game. I must speak with him at once!" Mycroft stated clearly giving Lestrade a final once over glance to make sure that he was indeed alright, to a normal observer they might think it were a sizing up look. Before turning on his heals without giving him a chance to follow, heading straight to where he knew were the main chambers of the valiant.

"Hold up there you don't order me around Holmes!" growled Lestrade having to jog to keep up with Mycroft as he walked straight to the Masters rooms waiting patiently for Lestrade to let him in, giving him a look that said. 'kindly disappear' (for both their benefits really.)

Walking straight into the Lounge area he was surprised to see that Lucy wasn't around. Scanning over the room with minor interest, exactly as he had imagined it to be. Overly decorated, royally so. With all the fine-ments and Luxury, and there sitting atop the fireplace on a stand was his umbrella. He tilted his head at it thoughtfully walking over to it, identifying it as his almost instantly.

Looking around to make absolutely certain he was alone, he dislocated his thumb slipping the handcuffs off with almost ridiculous (and perhaps suspicious ease) relocating them without so much as a wince, before taking hold of his umbrella with more relish than he could ever remember having DEARLY missed his old friend, looking over it to make sure that no damage had been done, walking with it, feeling the weight of it, feeling complete in a way he never imagined a simple item might be able to do. But deprived of his norms for so long, his umbrella truly was a saver of sanity.

He moved to the chair opposite the fireplace ( A FIREPLACE in the middle of a fighting ship. ..honestly the master was more batty than he thought.) sitting down with the grace and ease of many years of practice, sitting straight backed his umbrella balancing perfectly in front of him in his hands. Fully dressed in his suit and clothes. He felt whole, complete and perfectly contented to await his doom.

The window outside wasn't covered. It was heading into dusk and still he waited. The electric fire before him started up almost as soon as it became dark. And still he waited. He was beginning to wonder if he was in the right rooms. When finally food arrived from a dumbwaiter next to the fireplace he'd noticed in his observations. Finding food for 2 people he wondered if the master was expecting company or preparing for a dinner with his wife.

The answer soon came as the master walked into the room, clearly in a bad mood, gave him one accusing look before grabbing the dishes dumping them both onto the table that had been set up previously for dinner occasions, the table long but the master seemed to see fit to eat in the same corner together, walking over to the fireplace pouring himself a drink before heading back to his side of the table, sitting down rattling the table as if trying to satisfy an uncontrollable urge to break something.

"I suggest you sit down before I loose my temper Miky." Suggested the master in a tone that brook no argument. Mycroft followed the suggestion as if he might an order, sitting down almost tentively next to the master, sensing his mood, watching him as he broke opened both plates of food waving the silver cover at him to eat before digging into his own food with the ferociousness of a lion.

They sat eating for quite some time, almost as they had done on the first real meeting that they had indulged in, though this time it seemed to follow with nothing but silence. The master seeming to prefer his own thoughts, and Mycroft deciding that he'd let the Master come to his own conclusions and decisions.

"I've been trying to make up my mind about you Mycroft." The master said softly staring at his glass that had been empty for some time, his meal half eaten when he began to talk.

"I thought it would be easy to break you. If you'd only waited a few more days I may have come to see you. I see I was wrong. You're still a disappointment." Mycroft wondered if he should take this as a compliment or an insult he still felt rather pleased though he didn't show it. He sensed however that the master seemed to sense this from him.

"I have thought about what to do to you and I think perhaps you haven't realised JUST what I am capable of. You're father is an old man because I aged him , not because he just aged that way." Stated the master matter of factly, Mycroft started to develop a cold sensation at the pit of his stomach.

"You are indispensable, we both know that. But after careful thought you are more a nuisance than a benefit to me. I am able to control your brother without much problem because he looks out for himself. You on the other hand seem to be of the opinion that when it comes to what you deem yours to protect it doesn't matter what you have to give up…"

" I have news for you Mycroft and you may not like this. You may not be dispensable, but I have several choices with regard to you. The first is to kill you because I have another Holmes to give me what I need. But there are better ways of dealing with you. Another being to deage you. I've thought about reraising you to be MY children. But that would take too long." The master stated as he cleared the remainder of the food. Mycroft had forgotten about his food entirely.

"I could of course just disable you. Perhaps a lobotomy? Scramble that handsome brain of yours. All I really need is your genetic materials anyway. It would be a shame to loose such a brilliant mind but what use have I for it if it will always fight me?" Mycroft felt physically ill and out of his depths. This having never occurred to him, he had gone a definite grey colour. The master's voice almost distant.

"The opposite is always an option. Destroy your body and leave your mind alone…trapped and useless unable to so much as…" Mycroft stood as soon as he had heard the word trapped, staring at the master, knowing he was fully within power to do any and all of that if he wished trying to regain his voice, the master looking up at him with ill-disguised interest, his finger tapping out the rhythm that Mycroft had learned to despise.

"ENOUGH. Tell me what you want." Mycroft all but yelled, knowing his mistake the moment he felt 4 invisible loops wrap around his body falling forward onto his knees beside the masters chair , there was no escape from this hold, he knew it.

The master let out a small sigh of displeasure wiping the crumbs from his meal off his chin before staring down at Mycroft thoughtfully standing up walking around him and dropping to straddle the back of his legs, pressing his body against Mycroft's back.

"Obedience is what I need Mycroft. We've discussed this before I think?" the master stated reaching around Mycroft to undo his belt, button and zipper beneath his waistcoat, tugging them as well as his underwear down with them, pushing him forward further in order to push them over his knees and down to his ankles.

Starting, Mycroft tried to squirm away, only earning a sharp slap across his buttocks, 4 sharp smacks in that same incessant rhythm to be more precise. Causing him to still, he heard the masters zipper being pulled down.

"What are you doing master?" he asked in a thick tone, having done things like this in his youth for his country was one thing. But this was far more personal. The feeling of the master entering his mind gave him no escape, he felt like he was drowning.

"A smart man like you shouldn't ask stupid questions" answered the master holding out two fingers in front of Mycroft's face.

"Suck or this gets bloodier than you're willing to go Miky." It was left unsaid that the master was willing to go there.

Mycroft sucked in the fingers trying not to think about it, the presence in his mind forced him to focus on it, almost following them the moment the master slipped them out with an almost silent moan, before rudely pressing them into Mycroft, wrapping an arm around his legs to pull him up forcing them to open him.

Mycroft let out a low howl unable to go anywhere, wiggling trying to escape before he could even get used to the fingers he felt them slip out, heard the master spit and suddenly the sharp overwhelming sensation of the Master thrusting into him, he screamed aloud the pain almost more than he could bare, not been given a moment to catch his breath the master set up a brutal pace, none of this arousing to Mycroft, even though the master wrapped his hand around his cock jerking it, the pain of it too much to do anything for his own pleasure. He simply went limp waiting it to end.

"Good Boy." Coode the Master as he thrust deeper into him, Mycroft starting to wish for an end right at the beginning.

"From now on you listen. I am in control. Of everything. I have control of your mind as well as your body Mycroft. NEVER forget that." Growled the master as he thrust into Mycroft to make a point the hold on his mind seeming to tighten to the point that it became a blinding headache.

"If you are good then you MAY just save this planet. I can make sure that you have that power to save everyone. You have a ridiculous saviour complex and it will be your downfall Miky!" his thrusts became more erratic the hold on his mind coming in pulses squeezing and loosening, he felt like he was going to be sick.

"you are MINE Mycroft. No one is going to save you. Not your daddy, your brother, his own pet doctor or your silly little policeman. Learn to play along and you might actually get everything you ever wanted."

Mycroft wanted to respond somehow but he felt the pressure in his mind turning into a caress his whole body turning on fire, burning from the inside out, he bucked and screamed, the feeling of pain forcibly turning into pleasure finally arousing him. Not of his own will but because of that of the masters, no matter how much he was able to control his bodies reactions, It was like being rung out and hung on a tanning board to dry.

He screamed as he came in the masters hand briefly aware of the fact that the master was following , his senses telling him that he was feeling both his and the masters pleasures at once. And before he passed out everything stopped. Leaving him empty and shivering. The blackness welcome.

XXX

Awaking atop the large canopied bed in the masters Chambers was not what Mycroft had expected. His clothing all rearranged aside from the lack of jacket ,waistcoat, tie or shoes, he shifted wincing, feeling that he was already healing himself from the brutal violation, not wanting to know what his trousers looked like.

He stiffened as he felt the masters gaze on him, a mild throb around his temples reminding him of the headache he felt. The feel of someone crushing his head.

"Master… What do you want?" he asked mouth feeling unnaturally dry.

"You to follow my orders, to do as you are told." Came the dry answer in reply the Master sitting on the end of the bed studying him.

"you didn't give me any orders and I've read all the literature you gave me to read." Muttered Mycroft keeping his gaze on the canopy as he felt that pressure squeeze inside his head.

"Master please… just… You said that I could save the planet?" he quizzed fighting back nausea.

"You agree to become the Time-lord-Half-breed I need you to become and I promise that you can make sure you're human pets are kept up with all the kibble and vets visits they need. "

"What would that entail?"

"Training, the literature is hardly any use if you can't put it into practice. Sherlock's already light-years away from where you are."

"Rules?"

"Do as I say when I say it, or else?"

Mycroft felt his heart sink slightly. It was almost like school all over again. No matter how many times you tried to be normal, you were always a freak in the end for something else. He couldn't play a game he didn't know the rules to.

"I think you should go to your bedroom and wait for me to contact you. If you leave it again without permission there will be dire consequences."

Mycroft felt himself standing without actually knowing he was doing it walking over to the door surprised to find that his umbrella had somehow been put with his jacket and shoes, turning to see the master to make sure that it wasn't an accident before tilting his head, "Thank you master"

Putting on his shoes and walking out with a noticeable limp. The blood stain on the comforter and his trousers telling a story as he leaned heavily on his umbrella as he headed to his room.

The most unpleasant thing of the trip he noticed was the odd stares he'd gotten from the guards that he passed. A mixture of pity and sympathy. He wondered if the master had broadcast the events to the rest of the ship. He didn't really care. He needed a shower and he needed it NOW.

It was probably why as soon as he'd gotten to his room he found the water turned off making him wait half a day before it had been turned on again. His window was finally open and that warm presence in his mind had returned, trying to fight it off, thinking almost sure it was the masters. But it was different to that hold. He almost hated it as much as it comforted him.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks so much for the reviews. Keeps me writing. Nice to know that you've got at least a few readers. So thanks again. X)**

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><p><strong>Warnings:<strong>

**References to noncon from previous chapter. T-Rated…maybe K+**

**Sherlock-centric chapter****. Darkish!Sherlock (Not entirely certain if it would be Dark …more like morbid curiosity Sherlock… no Sherlock torturing someone or anything like that… yet... maybe in later Chapters depending…) **

**The Masters having a good day**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9:<strong>

The master sat staring at Sherlock with a dark gaze wondering exactly what he'd done to deserve the pair of Holmes brothers. Not for the first time did he have an incredibly strong urge to ram a long pointy object into at least one of the Holmes. Remembering (Reminding) himself that these were Time Lord Offspring in the right era and the beginning of a new Gallifrey. He couldn't just get rid of an irritation just like he couldn't get rid of their annoying father.

He could possibly get rid of but frankly he didn't think he could find a better baby sitter that would actually be able to negotiate (if you could call it that) with Sherlock. There was the D.I but again Sherlock wouldn't have sniffed at him. His gaze flitting over Sherlock. Hair still seeming to smoke from the 'accident' that frankly the master in his own opinion thought was not an 'accident' at all but in fact incredibly deliberate…the problem was to prove it.

The Half-breed genius having learned to hide his thoughts so well that aside from a few stray thoughts that seemed to half tease the master into wanting to enter that brain of Sherlock's , unlike his brother that seemed to be so self-absorbed in the silly planet bellow that he couldn't have been bothered to learn something that valuable. The problem was that Sherlock's brain was far more complicated and quite maze like, much like his brothers, but he wasn't entirely sure that he'd be able to escape Sherlock's brain as easily as he could Mycroft's. Mycroft was so organised that his thoughts seemed to all connect whereas Sherlock's seemed to fly in all directions before gathering together

"Would you be so kind as to explain to me _exactly_ how this _accident_ happened again Sherlock?" he asked resting back in his chair trying to keep his irritation private, the Doctor somewhere off in the distance obviously watching but not commenting. Sherlock coughed slightly sitting up in his own chair. Watson beside him covered in soot and what seemed to be some chemical that had managed to burn through the first 2 layers of his jersey and shirt, not quite managing his undershirt.

"Very unfortunate. Someone…one of my lab assistance that you so kindly gave to me to help with the more minor experiments (but as important), left some sort of explosive material in front of one of the UV lamps…very unfortunate really…I'm not entirely sure which chemicals yet as I've been unable to do stock, after the explosion. If you'd let me back in to do so I'd let you know? Will you be rebuilding it?"

The look on Sherlock's face was the same as his brothers when he felt entirely too smug about something. Apparently something about the explosion amused him. None of his "experiments" were damaged in the blast, which on its own was a suspicious. "If you'd tell me why you blew up your laboratory I might be more inclined to rebuild it if you swore never to do it again." Came the stoic answer the master applauding himself for not having throttled the young man yet.

Sherlock didn't even have the decency to look apologetic or even Chagrined at having been discovered. "I was bored. You promised me that I'd never be bored. You broke your promise. No fresh cadavers. How am I supposed to do my experiments without fresh supplies. Besides most of the damage is internal. Nothing that a good lick of paint won't cure and new chemical supplies of course." Sherlock gave him a look that begged him to disagree with him.

The masters eyebrows arched his over expressive face giving him away enough to let Sherlock know that he realised his mistake, his head tilting to the side as if he was thinking of something entirely different. "I'll fix everything. I'm terribly sorry for the oversight. I thought that perhaps you were able to entertain yourself on what I had supplied you…everything should be fixed in the next day or two."

Sherlock stared at him as if he'd grown 2 heads for a moment before realising he was gaping sitting back in his chair clearing his throat clearly having expected to have to argue with the master about such things, as if wanting to provoke the master into an argument. "Good. Is there anything else or can we go and get cleaned up." Trying not to think of the 2 days of boredom ahead of him.

The master on the other hand was thinking exactly of those 2 days, his head tilted back against his chair eyes closed in some form of meditation leaving Sherlock and Watson to watch him, Sherlock crossing his legs in an over exaggerated way, wishing he had his violin with him right about now just to aggravate the man…if you could call him that…a man.

" leave us, I wish to speak with Sherlock _alone_." Watson gave Sherlock a dubious look before standing up and walking out of the room after Sherlock shook his head to let him know it was alright. Steepling his fingers and leaning back in his chair before staring back at the man awaiting all hell to break loose.

The master waited for Watson to leave before leaning back in his chair rocking forward and backward staring at Sherlock thoughtfully, his foot rocking from side to side as he crossed his legs. The doctor in the background shifting where he was, the sound of rustling fabric ignored by both of them. A long silence stretching between the pair of them.

"What can I do to make absolutely certain that you don't blow my ship up? Asked the master after a good 10 or 15 minuets of staring content.

"What can I do to make absolutely certain that the next time you fuck my brother you don't broadcast it to the ship?" he asked fingers still Steepled head tilting a look of displeasure on his face.

"ah the truth is out. Did it hurt you to listen to it?" he asked genuinely interested the Doctor making a pained groaning noise as if answering.

"Your side was…loud. I would prefer not to listen to my brother while being raped by a psychopath when I'm mixing volatile chemicals that may or may not explode the remainder of your ship. But I was bored. I congratulate you on your finally getting to him"

The master laughed a loud and cheery laugh that would normally have sent chills through a mans body did nothing to Sherlock who merely smirked inwardly grateful for the gift of being hiding his true thoughts. The master grinned to himself standing up to stand over Sherlock. A trick that Sherlock wasn't really interested in paying attention to.

"I have a toy I wouldn't normally share with anyone. But I think that you are more like me than I realised. He should rid you of your Boredom for now " Said the master pressing himself into the back of Sherlock's chair hands sinking onto his shoulders and levering Sherlock out of his chair and pushing him gently toward the door.

"A toy? He? Ah the elusive Jack Harkness. The guards have been talking of him. No matter how many times they shoot him he never dies. I'm intrigued." It was left out that not very many things intrigued him.

"Do you make it your business to know everything on my ship Sherlock?" asked the master inwardly pleased by the look of horror dancing on Daddy Doctors face, almost dancing with Sherlock as they made their way to the engine room, the guards tensing as they passed.

"Of course I do. You have given me far more access to it than you have Mycroft. Almost unfair but he's big enough to take care of himself." Answered Sherlock sure to hide any real feelings for what his brother was going through, standing by the door waiting for it to be opened for him.

Opening the door the Master entered followed by Sherlock grinning his normal predatory grin at Jack who was standing in chains, his shirt open staring passed the master at Sherlock eyebrow raised.

"Mycroft's little brother…you are cute. I'll have to ask him why he never brought you to Cardiff for some tea." Grinned Jack pleasantly winking at him. Sherlock rolling his eyes as the master took out his laser screwdriver shooting it right at Jacks head dislocating his neck so that it dropped at an awkward angle, the chains going tight as he dropped dead in them.

"Talks to much. I'd hand you a gag but I'm afraid I left it in Miky's room." The Master almost Taunted, Sherlock didn't bother saying anything eyes wrapped on Jack who's neck adjusted itself before gasping for breath groaning before standing again and rolling his neck it clicking.

"Fascinating. Have you got any information on him… how many times have you killed him?" Sherlock asked walking around Jack eyes looking over him with an almost blood lust that made the master feel like Sherlock could truly be his own son.

"I have all the information. You are most welcome to experiment on him if you get _bored_." Grinned the master mentally noting the need to add more camera's to the room.

Sherlock nodded wordlessly already starting to examine Jack with his gaze. "Alright… I'll give you a list of tools I'll need." He muttered Jack watching him with a small frown on his face deciding against saying anything.

The master grinned feeling a glow of pride, needing to go and see the Doctor to send him his condolences for creating such a brilliant little Tyrannical Time-lord. Walking out the door as Sherlock started to fire questions at Jack with regards to how this happened and sensations. The master was torn between going and seeing the Doctor or seeing Mycroft. Both were so very tempting.


	10. Chapter 10

**YAY the reviews are awesome thanks :D *basks in happiness.* **

**Don't feel you can't tear me a new one if you have constructive criticism either. I note everything and try to improve and one day I will find time to fix previous chapters promise.**

**Sorry if the chapters seem short… There might be a 2****nd**** part to this particular chapter I ****think ****(Feels unfinished)… Hopefully soon. Either way. new chapter soon .hopefully. **

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><p><strong>Warnings:<strong>

**References to Spousal Abuse…(Lucy/Master) and Violence, and a tiny bit of blood.**

**The Master not being a very patient and good teacher. Mycroft trying to learn Telepathy from a maniac.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

Mycroft thought he had never truly been so close to tears in his entire life as he had in this one moment. Not for himself. Never in his adulthood had he once shed tears for himself, and only once had he ever shed tears for his brother.

Now laying on his bed curled in a tight ball trying to breathe through pain that should have left marks or some kind of evidence… something anything that might heal, not sure if the pain would ever stop, he fought back tears of hurt and frustration.

"You aren't even trying Miky!" growled the Master for the umpteenth time in the last hour of an on-going morning.

"Perhaps harsher incentives are in order." The Master thought out loudly to himself as Mycroft gasped loudly turning away from the Master as his body arched to almost impossible amounts. The screwdriver in The Masters hand glowing more viciously as the power increased. Mycroft cried out unwillingly, trying to focus on trying to focus on the crew aboard the ship, trying to focus on their thoughts. Made all the harder by the Master making him feel like he was being flayed alive.

"You are not filling your part of the deal Mycroft, I told you to do as I said when I said it." The Master muttered distracted reaching down to start undoing his belt. The screwdriver dropping onto the bed power turning off allowing him a moments breath only to realise what The Master had planned his watery eyes springing open to stare unable to speak, his voice gone from hours of screaming.

"I suppose we'll have to go back to something that works." Grumbled the Master as if it was something that he didn't particularly wanted to do. Mycroft beginning to panic kicking back toward the other side of the bed, trying to focus harder on the crew shaking his head.

"No…trying Master. Trying!" he croaked the Masters hand grabbing his ankle tugging him closer.

Everything seemed to stop in that one moment, the world stopped spinning, the hand was no longer there and he was aware of everything on the ship. Hundreds of Thoughts rushing into his head forcing themselves into his own thoughts. His body going still, eyes wide unaware of where the Master was unable to think as he felt the thoughts filling his head.

It suddenly became too much, unable to breath or focus, feeling himself drowning in a sea of human thought and emotion. Unable to grasp onto a single one of his thoughts, aware of everything and everything, wanting NEEDING silence in his head. He was drowning and didn't know how to swim, he needed to hold onto something but there was nothing.

"Please! Make it stop! I…stop please!" shouted Mycroft with a silent voice, trying to close his thoughts. Everything again slowed down as if every person who's mind he had accessed became aware that he was there. A hundred thoughts stopping in unison as if hundreds of people had suddenly stopped to stare at him having heard him.

And he became aware of 3 omnipresent minds in his own. The Masters footprints were there but he wasn't in the same space. The warm sensation he had so often felt was that of the Doctors who was everywhere not only within him. As if he were part of the human thought system…

There in the centre of his mind as if on a pedestal stood Sherlock as if waiting for him. The hundreds of minds around his own silently murmuring as if confused. Not knowing what was going on but aware. Sherlock was different. He was aware of him, willing to actually help instead of demanding things he didn't know how to do, and suddenly the murmuring voices stopped, and Sherlock was gone he was in his own mind on his own.

Opening his eyes he sat up sweating and shaking looking around not sure for what before he remembered the Master, looking around startled to find the Master knocked out on the side of his bed, he couldn't fight back a smirk, a strong urge to end the miserable bastards life before things got worse but all he had was his umbrella that had been disarmed. He'd have to wait another opportunity.

Slipping out of bed with great difficulty he somehow managed to pull the Master onto his bed blinking to find his belt undone but not doing anything, staggering to the bathroom needing to get himself back together hoping the Master wouldn't blame him for this, knowing that hopes were slim on that chance, before coming face to face with himself in the mirror, instantly hating the panic he registered in his gaze the moment he stood still. The Master on his bed in the background.

He spun around to stare at the Master on his bed out cold, breathing normally though as if sleeping. He could kill the man he thought to himself staring at him with hatred. He didn't need anything. A pillow would do. But could you kill a Time Lord? It was too much to risk…or was it? Ending all this right there would be something that should really be his duty. But this could be a test. He shuddered to think of what the Master would inflict upon him if the man didn't die.

Walking slowly over to the Master he picked up a pillow that had somehow ended up at the end of the bed, looking down at the man, holding it tightly in his hand, staring at him standing beside his bed trying to gain the courage to do try to kill him. Taking a step forward he felt so close to ending it all.

It happened as quickly as his mind decided that it needed to end this now. Claws digging into his shoulder shoving him off into the opposite wall with strength that Mycroft would never have expected of Lucy Saxon. Followed by a sharp slap that left 4 parallel lines across his cheek already seeping blood. Lucy looking wild.

"Don't you hurt my husband." The wild woman before him hissed , standing protectively between her husband and Mycroft looking fierce.

Mycroft gave up all thought of killing the Master, deciding to berate himself later for being too much of a coward to end the Masters life then and there, staring at Lucy calmly the pillow back on the bed where it had started in the first place.

"Now I think you had better calm down. Harold wasn't feeling very well so I put him on my bed so that he didn't hurt himself." He said in a soft assured voice that he hoped would calm her.

It didn't help at all, she went silent for a moment while recognition registered in her gaze… something told him then and there that if she had more than her nails right now he'd be dead.

"You are the filthy tart that stole his attentions!" She all but yelled. Any proof of the fact that she was a lady flew out the window down thousands of leagues to hit the ground bellow in that moment.

She launched herself at him tugging at his thinning hair trying to gouge out his eyes, her knee resting in a very, very tender spot as she slapped and scratched at him. Mycroft starting to loose his patience grabbed hold of her wrists remembering that this was another of the Masters toys and breaking her would end badly for both of them, rolling her over with an efficient move, trying to focus on trying to calm her.

He remembered the feel of Sherlock's presence in his mind when he was panicking the source and the guidance, he had her unable to move, his gaze searching her wild gaze seeing her for the once strong woman that she had been, now reduced to the Masters trophy wife… something inside him told him that he was slowly turning into Lucy. A dummy to be used for the Masters pleasure and nothing more.

He fought back his own panic once more, forcing his calming thoughts on her and to some miracle it worked she had gone instantly calm and passed out .Promising her that one day she would get her will. Finally she went limp allowing him to stand up looking back at the Master who'd awaken a moment ago. Looking groggy and taking in the scene before him. Mycroft hoped the scratch-mark's would go in his favour.

The Masters gaze ran over Mycroft to his wife and back to Mycroft before grinning. "Well done Miky. Proud of you. You are getting there. And here I thought you were useless… Now come over here." Said the Master in a soft tone that set Mycroft's hairs on end.

Mycroft instantly stood inwardly wincing at following orders, walking over to the Master to stand before him not meeting his gaze, the Masters cold hand gripping his chin forcing him to meet his gaze, feeling the Masters mind forcing itself into his. He wanted to hide the thoughts that he had wanted to kill the Master but unsure how they were open to the Masters gaze.

The Master smirked grip becoming harder. "Wanted to kill me did we?" Asked the Master in a sweet tone fingers digging into broken flesh.

"You nearly did. That little stunt you pulled knocked me out with far too much power. If I weren't a Time-lord you would have killed me." Mycroft winced back looking down trying to look contrite, his heart rate rising…

"I know that you had no way of controlling it Mycroft. Don't worry. But you thought about killing your Master which was not a nice thought was it." Mycroft didn't so much as shake his head, as the Master shook it for him, the grip becoming almost unbearable but at least the Master wasn't in his mind anymore.

The Master let go of his face, reaching back and slapping him so hard that blood flew from the cuts on his face knocking him as far back into the room that he hit an opposite wall into one of his shelf's , his head and teeth feeling like they were rattling.

"You aren't in more pain because you decided against killing your Master. But your pet humans are going to find there water rations halved for the next month. I'll be sure to let them know why."

The Master stood up, summoned the guards in to take Lucy before limping out of the room so deep in thought that he forgot to even make an exit. The event of been knocked unconscious clearly having unsettled him.

Mycroft began to wonder just what it would take to get Lucy to betray the Master… Probably too much for him to even contemplate. But perhaps Sherlock would have an idea…If only he could learn to use the abilities being forced on him , he needed to speak to Sherlock and Needed to learn how to hide his thoughts.

Checking his mouth to see that no teeth were knocked out he walked to the bathroom trying to focus on contacting Sherlock. If they'd done it once they could do it again.

tbc


	11. Chapter 11

**Warnings…. Ummm…. If you're still reading this I imagine that you've been through the worst of it so far …anyway:**

**Taunting. Mentions of Noncon (as previously Mentioned) , More long ranting from Le Master.**

… **and not really happy with this chapter but seems wrong not to post it since I wrote it . So good luck.**

**Chapter 11:**

The deck of the valiant was quiet, as it was most evenings. The guards outside stayed outside. No one came in or out when the Master was absent. The elderly man in his wheelchair staring out at the porthole into the darkness of the world flashes like lightening lighting up the distance in an artificial display. A green glow on the opposite side of the horizon from it reminding him of the damage the Master had inflicted upon his planet.

He (The Doctor) had enough warning to know that the Master was making his way up to the deck from the wave of fear that followed through the corridors toward it and himself, relaxing back in his chair taking a few meditating breaths before sinking deeper into his thoughts wondering what the Master would have to say this time round.

Truly worrying about his son's seemed pointless at this point. He could only hope that they managed to survive. It was true that like the Doctor, the brothers Holmes were protected by their genetics and the relationship the Master and himself had. Now feeling the Master coming toward him, clearly agitated about something, he couldn't help but grin at the thought that perhaps one of his son's had produced such a reaction.

As predicted moments later the Master walked through the room, his normal music and dance routine gone, the limp noticeable more from the sound of the gate of his step , as he hadn't bothered to look around feeling his chair spun around away from the window he sunk deeper into it, the forced old age making it difficult to balance in his own chair to the point that he was leaning against the arm of it staring at the Master with ill hidden displeasure. Waiting for him to make the first comments as usual.

"Your sons are impossible Doctor." Stated the Master with an almost comical huff of a tired relative, pulling him toward the table, before sitting down in his normal seat having the aged Doctor before him, leaning back to stare at him as if waiting for him to reply. The almost tired look on the Doctors face smacks of being slightly smug about hearing that, but it might just be the way the Doctors wrinkles rest over his face.

The Master seemed to think it's the former, another huff of displeasure had escaped him as he leaned back in his chair. "Sherlock's has enthusiastically taken to his new toy. I must say I was alittle disappointed that he requested anaesthetic for his initial plans, however he wouldn't jeopardize his _initial_ experiment by having him go into shock because of pain."

Speaking as if he were an educator giving a parent who's child wasn't living up to their full potential a report on what they could be doing better at. The Doctor's face was a careful mask as he listened to the master his head tilted to the side leaning against his shoulder as if he were too week to hold his own head up.

" has been running around trying to heal the hurts and all that sad sack rubbish. Its amusing. He realises what Sherlock is doing would be considered 'morally' wrong, but he justifies it to himself as Sherlock just trying to survive. Do you justify what you've done as just trying to survive Doctor? Or do you do that for me?" asked the Master not really expecting an answer from the Doctor, who didn't disappoint, merely looking impassively at the Master.

"Now the big problem is Mycroft. I have no idea what to do with him. Not an ounce of self-preservation within him. Takes more after his father than he would probably like to admit." The Master complained, leaning back in his chair placing a foot against foot stand of the wheelchair, gently rocking it back and forth as he thought to himself.

"Of course he wants to keep his pets safe at all time. But again he understands the value of a lesser evil. Definitely your son. Would rather kill several men than 10% of the population, but would rather kill several criminals instead of 1 little girl. Not just numbers to him… Can you imagine? I could force him to kill the earths little children every time he annoyed me, but I think we both know that he's insane enough to judge it to be my fault, or end up finding some way to kill himself to save them."

Shaking his head in annoyance he looked into the Doctors eyes not for the first time, the dark plate like eyes that carried the history of time behind them, the only real proof of this effecting him hid behind those eyes after all.

"Of course I found a way to get to him but you know about that." Suggested the Master fingers wrapping around one another as he sat in his chair.

"Not unlike his father at all." Muttered the Master his foot moving from the foot rest on the wheelchair to gently run against the inside of the Doctors calf smirking.

"Red Hair though all the way down to his… You've never been a red-hair. Not quite the colour of blood but it does compliment it so, bleed's so pretty he does. I suspect that if we hadn't taught him to heal himself he'd have bled to death by now." The master sighed softly as if the idea made him content, the Doctor merely dropped his leg to the side avoiding the Masters foot that followed.

Secretly it irritated the Doctor just a tad that even looking as old as he did the Master still managed to invade his personal space. His face remaining impassionate however no matter how much the Master tried to get a rise out of him.

"He's sooo tight too. More tight than you were on our first night… that said you did insist on proper preparation. Did squirm a bit too. Again you heard it over the broadcast so there is no telling you that your little boys a right red haired freckly fox in the bed. HA! I had the Doctor and his son in my bed, I may just have to find out what Sherlock would want for a shag" The Master giggled to himself wishing he had a camera with him from the distinct greying colour of the Doctors skin.

"Anyway I'm getting off track here, as fun as the idea of trying to convince Sherlock it would benefit him to let me shag him, I came here for a reason." The Master leaned forward pulling the Doctor's chair so that they could be nose to nose.

"I was sooo close to breaking Crofty that I could taste it, He was alone, frustrated in himself for the first time in decades. He was going to break so beautifully. Then something happened. Someone helped him. You wouldn't know anything about that ?" The Doctors head tilted further back as he examined the Master silently, silently proud of his sons.

"You don't know then. A pity that. He nearly kills me and you are happy about it. That wont do at all. Something will have to be done about that boy…any suggestions?" asked the Master smirking, though he was clearly (well to the Doctor) shaken by this. His sons were clearly stronger than either of them gave them credit for. The Master was starting to lose control and he knew it, that made him dangerous.

"We're currently dealing with Japan. The indomitable gauls of my little empire." The Master sighed once again changing subject, kicking the wheelchair backwards so hard that it skid right across the deck to land sideways against the far off wall before the Master gave him a friendly wave before stalking out of the room toward his room to decide what to do with Mycroft.

Xxx

Mycroft wasn't entirely certain if being summoned back onto the roof of the Valiant was a good thing. Again being summoned by the Master was NEVER a good thing. All he could do was hope for the best. Which he loathed preferring to be completely in control but slowly getting used to not being able to be in control he merely went with it.

It wasn't until he was standing on the roof that his heart sank to the pit of his stomach. Lestrade was standing just off and away from the master close to the railing looking down upon the world as they seemed to float much lower than normal.

"MYCROFT" The Master yelled joyously wrapping his arm around Mycroft pulling him toward him in an embrace, Mycroft going stiff in his arms looking down at the master past his nose trying to get a gaze on him as he was practically lifted off his feet in a hug the air being crushed out of his lungs.

"M…Master….What can I d…do for you, gnnn bit tight" he groaned as the embrace went from hard to relaxed in a matter of a moment before putting him down.

"Good boy. I'm sending you to the terrestrial side." Sang the Master Happily. Mycroft wonder what he'd done to get called Good boy but the idea of going down to earth suddenly stopped all thought, his eyebrow shooting up.

"May I ask why?" asked Mycroft head tilted wondering if the Master was about to push him overboard as some kind of joke, either way it was win, win.

"I've been treating you unfairly." he tutted straightening Mycroft's shirt ,Mycroft was sure it had more to do with the fact that he'd managed to knock the Master out accidently.

"Your brother is the favourite son and I realised I haven't given you a single treat since you got on-board this ship…well not a real one." The Master turned his gaze on Lestrade for a moment eyes gazing over him for a moment before returning to Mycroft's gaze.

Mycroft simply remained silent waiting for some kind of joke or demand wondering what was really going on. The master read this on his face.

"Sherlock has everything he wants. A pet to keep him company, a Laboratory to keep him happy and enough test subjects to keep him busy. I feel I the gracious father must give my son the same thing."

Mycroft tried not to cringe at being called the Masters son waiting for the catch realising that the Master was waiting for him to comment when his grin slipped ever so slightly.

"Of course Master. Whatever you feel I deserve?" he asked looking over the ledge waiting to be thrown over. Knocking out the Master had to come with a cost.

"A pet to keep you company…you can both stop pretending to hate each other, its clear you don't by the way Greggy… A laboratory obviously isn't your style, I am therefore going to send you down to Japan to fix and organise my concentration camps while we are here, something you seem to like to do aye organising countries? You have 2 weeks and then you will be back. There will be enough animal life to keep you busy I'm sure."

Mycroft swallowed thickly the idea of organising such a thing was barbaric but what choice did he have really. He suspected that the Master wouldn't take too kindly to his refusing a 'present'.

"Thank-you Master… I…it's a very thoughtful present. Are there conditions?" he asked softly trying not to look over at Greg pretty much guessing the indignity on his face.

"Of course. No funny business what so ever. And I will punish you if incidents within your control go wrong. You will report every 12 hours. And I don't want you going down there in suits. It will make you a target. I have already prepared everything for your arrival. Remember. You are the son of the Master now. People will probably not react too kindly to you if they are stupid…which I find most of them are."

The Master grinned leaning forward to kiss his cheek grabbing hold of his wrists 2 thick metal bands wrapping around each wrist, before practically melding against his skin without cutting off circulation, Mycroft's eyebrow raising at the Masters manic grin awaiting an answer to this.

"Insurance. Teleportation with the wave of a screw driver where ever I want you. Where ever you are on this planet." The Masters grin was an extremely pleased one, he waved before dancing off toward the exit to leave them on roof.

"That was…"

"Ya it was…shall we Master Mycroft?" Lestrade said cooly walking toward the crafts that would take them earth side."

Mycroft had to stop himself from growling. Aside from the indignity of such a thing, he had a feeling his new jewellery might be able to relay messages to the Master.

Unable to stop himself he pulled Lestrade back glaring at him for calling him that conveying his displeasure at the term. Before marching to the shuttles leaving Lestrade with a possibly bruised arm.

"Are there clothes on board that I can change into or do I have to wait until we get to where ever it is we'll be staying?" Asked Mycroft in a horty tone swearing to all that was earthly he'd continue wearing his dress shirt if all he could find in his new wardrobe were _T-Shirts_.

TBC.


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry this took so long. Been out in the veldt for over a fortnight and a bit on holiday and only a tablet to write with so if this is disjointed (more than normally) , my humblest apologies. Please excuse any spelling errors and such. **

**Thanx for all the faves! 3 :-D**

**Warnings:**

**Blood,Gore… Pointless fighting… violence, off screen violence and abuse and possibly more. **

**Chapter 12.**

The plane reminded him of the one he had often used for personal reasons, The plush carpet, overly engineered but utterly lush and comfortable (leather) seats and furniture, a definite 180 degree turn from the Victorian furniture and heavy carpets he'd been living with for the last while (his entire life), the Quality modern look of the entire plane suggested that it had been designed by the Master.

The clothing that the master had selected for him hadn't been that bad if he had to be honest with himself. He had been expecting torn jeans, sleeveless shirts and leather jackets with spikes. What he had found was comfortable jackets, there had been a leather jacket but a soft buttery suede ）, trousers perfectly suitable to his needs and dignity and the shirts though many of them were t-shirts a good deal of them were comfortable button ups, and a few turtlenecks and coats, not a single tie or hanky available but that was hardly a problem.

The only thing that bothered him was his shoes. He could imagine the Master having a good laugh at his expense. The white rubber seemed to pick up the lint off the carpet as he escaped the large cloak room and the red canvas seemed to stick out like a sore thumb and trust Greg to have notice something so silly. The ex-detective tried to pretend nothing was wrong but the hidden grin on his face said it all.

"So…" Greg asked not sure what to say trying to break the awkward silence that had been upon them since arriving aboard the aircraft together. Mycroft sat silently hands folded in his lap, sitting up a tad straighter his head tilting up challengingly his eyebrows following suit as if to invite him to finish his sentence. Greg coughed looking him up and down the grin fighting to break out on his face even though he knew it was a bad idea.

"All-Stars. Wonder where he found them?" Greg smiled trying to get at least a small comment out of Mycroft who crossed his legs sat back silently and pointedly stared out the window, fishing out a few mini-bottles of whiskey from the individual cooler, without even looking, finding a glass, pouring them into the glass and managing to do it all while staring out the window.

Greg frowned shifting in his seat looking him over, Turtle neck, suede jacket, slightly faded dark trousers and a pair of red all-stars looked almost ridiculous on the man after having seen him in nothing but suits for so long, and once sports clothing but that was something that neither of them had control over. The cool look on his face (in Gregs opinion) Would make a clown costume look serious.

The only way of knowing that Mycroft was at all affected by any of this was his pale (r than normal) complexion and dark sullen eyes of someone who's had the world on their shoulders for so long that it seems to have become more a way of life than a burden. Greg grabbed his own few mini-bottles of whiskey at the thought.

The remainder of the flight down had been far more intense. The remaining Japanese rebels had managed to develop flack shooters which had caused an incredibly rough ride. Enough so that Mycroft managed to look visibly relieved when they had landed in a "safe" area. Gregory on the other hand was floating between grey and green as he alighted from the craft hanging onto the rail to the point that even in his silent rage Mycroft hung onto his arm to stop him falling down the steps.

After that they somehow managed to make it to their accommodations without incidents. The rooms where comfortably fitted in modern furnishings. Nothing that was over the top like most things on the Valiant which actually managed to set Mycroft at ease. The only real difference to the rooms was the fact that the main room in the middle of the apartment had been turned into a computer hub taking up so much space that it was impractical to use the dark cool space for anything other than a computer room. Which resulted in a tighter living space between the the two old/ex? friends?

The space between them being so small instantly caused friction between them which almost instantly resulted in Mycroft taking the computer over as his personal space and Gregory using the kitchen as his. Which had worked quite well. Even if they had to step into each other's space every once in a while.

Mycroft had spent the first few nights working on numbers calculating algorithms. Calculating population ratios researching numbers and areas. Making use of the now almost non-existent national database cursing the Master for killing people an populations without bothering about documentation. And now he sat before Gregory in his kitchen clutching a large cup of fairly decent coffee staring him down after having said the first words he had said to Greg in the last few days.

"Say that again? "

"I wish to survey the camp site for an idea of the conditions we shall be working with... And I wish to do it today. "

Greg tried not to growl in dismay at the thought looking out at the rain pointedly Knowing that fighting with the incorruptible Holmes brothers was like fighting with a wall but he felt that he could, would and should let his voice be heard.

"Ignoring the fact that it is raining, might I remind you of our trip down here？It is dangerous and they are out to get you specifically. Just set up the paperwork and get the Masters cronies to do the rest. "

Mycroft gently put his mug down before giving Greg one of his patented impassionate stares "Ignoring the fact that we are his cronies, might I remind you that the Toclafane would be foreseeing the works otherwise and I need a visual idea of what is going on, emergency measures may be needed to prevent the spread of disease. And as for danger… We've been stuck on the Valiant with an unstable alien who's been slowly driving us all insane. I fear nothing down here."

Gregory had no argument for any of this slumping down while trying to find an argument , one of which was the Masters promising to make his death last 1000 hours if Mycroft died under his watch, but decided against it, deciding that he didn't need that on his shoulders as well.

Gregory wondered as Mycroft grabbed his umbrella the rain having stopped falling almost the instant that he agreed to leaving their little safe harbour, if he really was going to go insane if they remained on the Valiant any longer, it was true, and both of them knew that they would have to go back at some point.

The weather though wet was hot and humid and as a result both Greg and Mycroft had been dressed in loose shirts and trousers, Mycroft looked almost normal walking around the ghost town that would be phase 1 of the concentration camps. Mycroft was already commenting on needing to start a registration to find out just how many people this camp would be supporting, making notes of the sewage issues that are obvious as they pass open man holes and sludge strewn streets, the rain and almost unbearable humidity making things far,far worse. All this information being stored somewhere in his large cranium.

As they walked the ground became worse and worse to the point that Mycroft wasn't actually putting his umbrella down on the ground merely cradling it under his arm, people starting to become a common element, which unfortunately meant that the Toclafane were becoming more of a common element. The sludge in the streets becoming more red and ferrous in colour at the obvious slaughter that had happened the smell becoming far worse to the point that Greg was trying not to retch and Mycroft longed for his hanky to place over his mouth, finally stopping in the center of what had been a town square, burning buildings still leaving smoke trails, bodys and parts littering the square.

"First things first. A general Clean-up of the area I think." He managed to say pleasantly in a way that almost sounded as if this were normal, the fact that there were rotting limbs and shredded flesh all about him, the boneless remains of a person hanging over a lamp post not 2 feet away from him, the eerie remains of paper lanterns on a long rope connecting to the broken remains of a building didn't seem to faze him.

Greg on the other hand felt his blood boiling wondering how the man could be so cold, the look on his face obviously showed his displeasure as Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him before walking off to examine the newly erected statue of the Master in the town square the only clean artefact in the entire square.

"How can you damn well be so cold Mycroft! You're exactly like the bastard you know that?" Greg growled marching over to him pushing his shoulder unawares of the fact that they were beginning to be surrounded by a swarm of Toclafane, Mycroft would have noticed if he hadn't become so enraged at that accusation, trying to reel in his feelings.

"Gregory… These people are out on the street trying to live. They may not want to thank me for trying to provide clean water and a dry place to sleep or stop disease from spreading because of a large percentage of their own people are dead and rotting in the streets, or perhaps a little bit of normalcy in there totally upturned lives however I will as all-ways silently do what is needed to see to the well fair of people who have been placed in my protection. No matter how horrible and mean that makes me. If you don't like it then ask the Master to put you back onto the Valiant. I don't even know why you came with!" Mycrofts voice hadn't really become passionate but the frank hoarseness in his voice said it all.

Gregory stood speechless feeling almost more of a heal than he normally might, searching for something to say but Mycroft cut him off with a small huff. "I've seen enough"

As he turned to leave however he was suddenly faced with a ring of Toclafane circling them, a childish singing seemed to emit from them as they flew around them in unison. Gregory considered taking out the gun he'd been issued with moving close to Mycroft so that their backs were to each other. The first sensible move that he'd made all day in Mycroft's opinion.

"How can we help you?" Asked Mycroft sounding stronger than he felt, standing straight with his umbrella before him, legs spread in such a way that made him look as if he were in charge of the world. A Toclafane swung out of the group at high speeds stopping short of knocking Mycroft over.

"You shouldn't be here" It sing songed childishly, several sharp pointy objects suddenly sliding out of somewhere in its shell hovering around Mycroft as if trying to decide what to do with him.

"I'm here with The Masters permission." He informed in calmly now used to being talked to while threatened.

"The Master doesn't know you're here, We're bored and want to play! And all our toys have gone away." The Toclafane complained sadly the other Toclafane stopping and hovering as if to watch the conversation, Greg feeling a trickle of sweat slipping down his back making him itch, but not daring to scratch.

"The Master would be most unhappy with you if you broke his toy." Answered Mycroft deciding that trying to explain that he was sent there by the Master would be as pointless as trying to explain political strategy to a 3 year old.

"_You're_ the Masters toy?" It asked in awe spinning around quickly, one of the knifes getting too close to his cheek for his comfort. Resting just so beneath his jaw and behind his ear, his breath not even hitching even though he dared not breath, the feeling of another knife just bellow his solar-plexus cutting into the material the first dots of blood starting to seep through his shirt. Lestrade stood perfectly still behind him not wanting to pull attention to himself trying to work out how to let the Master know what was going on.

"Yes, and he sent me here to get everything ready for him, I'm Mycroft. He must have told you, you aren't allowed to play with me?" asked Mycroft his tone almost reprimanding, as if talking to Sherlock , though he knew Sherlock would never be so naive or dense.

At the word Mycroft the Toclafane all stopped abruptly before flying in opposite directions, the one left behind didn't seem to realise that it had been deserted even though it stopped moving. Suddenly realising it was alone but not moving knowing it would need to stay to talk.

"Good, you know who I am. I want you gather up everyone you can find…nicely and take them to outside the town, but make sure they all have food and water…Then I want you to level the town and clear it away, I want you to send me the numbers and names of everyone that will be staying here. I believe that there is a large farm complex just outside that will be fine for the people to stay for now, make sure that all building materials be delivered to it."

Mycroft grabbed up his umbrella stepping away from the blades that had instantly retracted as he moved back and headed back to their rooms not fast enough in his opinion, Greg walking at a brisk pace beside him as they walked.

"Mycroft are you alright?" he asked seeing the stain of deep red in the centre of his shirt not really gaining an answer.

"Look I'm sorry for what I said. I'm frustrated at all this, I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Mycroft sighed, stopping to examine the cut through the hole in his shirt, which was exactly that a cut, something else he could add to his collection of scars.

"I'm fine Gregory. But thank you I believe we are all strained these days, I'd appreciate a friend more than a snarky companion to be honest, if I wanted that I'd have invited Sherlock along. We must hurry its getting late" He tried to joke, but it was dawning on him that it was getting toward sundown and he didn't want to be in the town once it was dark.

"Ya… oh ya…shit its late!" Greg announced hurrying along, his mind working at pretty much the same pace Mycroft's was at that thought. He hadn't realised that that was the time having been listening to Mycroft making plans all day.

They sped along the streets making several turns, though both feeling as if they were being watched, coming back to the 'diplomatic' complex that was really a prison for the Masters land locked puppets. Which was a safer place to be than outside its walls?

The Complex had been just in their view when the inevitable happened, the sun seemed to set almost too quickly and they were once again surrounded by a threat, this time angry natives.

Greg and Mycroft both knew that letting slip who he was wouldn't help them, and the fact that they were heading for the complex in the first place was incriminating enough. It wasn't the first time today that both of them were cursing Mycroft for wanting to go for a walk…his little speech about not being afraid still ringing in Greg's ears.

"Good Evening Gentlemen…oh and Ladies my apologies. As you can see its starting to rain again and we would both like to get home." He said pleasantly bowing slightly in the direction of some of the butchest ladies he's ever come across in his life…and he'd lived amongst the aristocracies inbred few.

No one so much as budged. He then spoke in Japanese earning slightly confused looks before a gale of laughter followed, Greg stared at him confused wondering what he said, only to find a home made bayonetted forced under his nose . "Ah Mike?" he asked voice strained not sure what else he could possibly say to gain Mycroft's attention without using his name

Mycroft sighed frowning as he saw what was happening behind him. Saying something else in Japanese that earned him outraged cries and yells, Mycroft barely flinching. The lights from the Complex suddenly lightly in their direction, just as Greg decided he was actually about to die and to hell with Mycroft and to hell with everything.

Everything happened at once. The Toclafane arrived, this time to their rescue, Greg somehow ended up at the Gates to the Complex and Mycroft was gone in midair, just as Greg turned to ask him what happened. He had been there a few milliseconds ago. Greg slipped into the complex sending a message to the Master that Mycroft wasn't with him, as he was meant to in the event that that had happened.

Greg decided that the Master must have summoned Mycroft and set about cooking dinner, trying not to let his mind rest on the consequences of today's actions. Cooking dinner didn't really help him take his mind of the problem, neither did cleaning, washing dishes, trying to fix a plug on the blender that wasn't really broken.

Eating dinner was a too quiet for him to be able to not think. He was beginning to worry that perhaps it wasn't the Master who had him but those people. He thought about leaving the Master another message but the monster must have received his previous messages.

At some point passed midnight he heard the lock on the door rattling from the little nook he'd made for himself in the kitchen, that he'd placed a comfortable chair and couch and table where the breakfast nook ought to have been. He sat up wondering if someone had been sent to off him after what happened with Mycroft.

He couldn't describe how greatful he was to see Mycroft silhouette umbrella and all in the doorway of the kitchen before it headed out to their large shared bedroom, Mycroft disappeared into the bathroom before Greg could find out what had happened.

"Mycroft…are you hungry? I made some chicken and rice? I could heat it up?" He asked through the keyhole waiting for an answer only to hear the sounds of rattling and crashing and something being dropped and the rather suggestive thudding noise of someone falling to the ground causing him to worry.

"Mycroft you okay in there?" he asked again deciding that he'd seen him naked enough times not to be shy entering quickly to find Mycroft pulling himself up onto the toilet seat, using the sink, several red livid stripes visible from under his tshirt suggesting that the Master was non-to happy with the excursion.

"The Master says …no more outings, without Toclafane guards at least." Muttered Mycroft in a tired gravelly voice accepting a glass of water from greg with a shaking hand downing it far too quickly.

"What happened? I thought you were right next to me?" asked Greg not sure he wanted to know, slowly helping Mycroft out of his notably bloody shirt, taking in the new bruises, and at least 3 broken ribs. And a wraparound belt…whip? Mark that hit just short of a kidney injury.

"I'm not entirely sure what happened before … I think that I somehow managed to trick the people telepathically into thinking we were still there, and moved away just before the carnage started with the Toclafane. I'm glad that you went inside instead of looked for me though. Suicide wouldn't do either of us any good. "he tried to joke but it came out a little too sharply, the truth of the matter far outweighing the humour there in.

"What happened after Mycroft?"

" The master was upset that we weren't indoors before sundown, managed to upset his minions, and cause trouble with the locals and that he needed to 'bail' us out." He informed Greg standing on wobbly legs before allowing Greg the privilege of checking for any serious injuries. Luckily nothing that he couldn't heal on his own.

"First time he's tried corporal punishment…well traditional methods so to speak" Mycroft groaned as he slipped off his trousers the shoes so caked in mud and blood that they were given up for bin fodder before he even walked into the house, slipping into the shower and shutting the door, spending a good few minutes just soaking ,trying not to hiss at the feel of hot water on his wounds, aware that Greg hadn't left the room, before pulling in a towl, drying himself off the towl going from white to slightly pink, before slipping out the shower and quickly pulling on some PJ's before Greg could comment on some of the other bruising before being helped to bed.

"Is there anything I can do Mycroft? I think there are some aspirin in the kitchen somewhere?" asked Greg feeling slightly helpless.

"Sleep with me?" Asked Mycroft in such a way that it didn't really sound like a question or a request.

Greg huffed chuckling getting his pillows and blanket before slipping into bed behind him, in Pj's himself. Reaching to spoon against Mycroft smirking. "Is this what you meant or something else?" he joked, Mycroft already half dozing starting to heal again.

"M…Maybe later." Mycroft yawned before completely blacking out. If Greg hadn't been stationed as head of Security and watching Mycroft heal himself, he would have been worried that something was wrong…er. There was still something pleasant about holding the man while he slept, the healing sleeps usually the most peaceful he'd ever see the face.

Tbc

_**BTW! Has anyone noticed that some of the sentences where Doctor John Watsons name should appear it doesn't? I don't know why but its like something is Censoring the Name out or I don't know what? Is it just my browser or something? Its just something I noticed while scanning through as it happened more than twice now.**_

**Hopefully have the new chapter out sooner than the last. **


	13. Chapter 13

**To SilentEyedKat Good luck with your finals hope you did well. **

**And again Thanks for taking the time to review , I know how precious time is.**

**Warnings: Abuse, Violence , Attempted Suicide, Torture, Blood… Hetero (brief)(Lucy/The Master)**

**Chapter 13.**

The Masters day had started off with such promise. He'd woken in the early hours of the morning to feel his beautiful, lush wife's (if he felt kind enough to call her that) lips wrapped around him being able to take his early morning frustrations out on her was always a pleasure, the hot tight mouth and those dangerously sharp nails of hers had him panting out his pleasure as he finally released himself into her. But it all went downhill after that.

For starters she had expected some sort of pleasure in return which the Master had been disinclined to return, which had led to a screaming match he had never expected to have from her, which resulted in a fair amount of smacking, crying and Lucy running off to hide somewhere. Which wouldn't have been a problem if it hadn't been for the fact that someone had obviously been whispering things in her ear to get such a display out of her?

Which had led to him leaving his love nest before sunrise to go and find Sherlock for an explanation as it could only have been him? (Lucy having been banned from going anywhere near the Doctor) Only to find that he had locked himself into the lab to work on a volatile gas in the air chamber, which had left him incommunicado. Leaving him with a sleeping Dr. Watson in his chair and Sherlock paying no attention to him, as if he weren't important.

The Master had frowned at him through the airtight sealed glass as Sherlock waved his fingers in the air informing him that whatever trivial matter he had would have to wait, he was on the brink of a breakthrough, and that the Masters complaint was, clearly not as important.

The Master already in a bad mood felt like smashing the glass and then Sherlock's face, the drums beating wildly within his head, feeling so loud that they echoed through the room to him. He was just about to do that when he heard the slightest shuffling noise from behind him, finding John Watson staring at him as if identifying that he was in exactly the wrong place at the wrong time.

The master's face went from outraged to a big sharp toothy grin in the space of a blink; he slowly began to stalk towards John as if relishing the hunt. John tried to jump up to escape, only to find himself pinned, The Master grabbing hold of each of his shoulders, pulling him from his chair and tossing him across the room and against the glass, creating enough of a noise to finally gain Sherlock's attention.

Sherlock stopped what he was doing turned around his eyes not quite wide but clearly shocked. The master grabbed hold of John again punching him sharply across the face, before kicking him in the shoulder causing enough pain to release a real scream from him. Sherlock tried not to flinch, his face growing grey betraying his feelings even if his face remained imperious to what was happening.

The master grinned in satisfaction beating his fist and feet against John, who had curled up but couldn't prevent the beating, blood starting to fly with every kick and punch until the Master could feel the drums begin to quieten, grabbing the somehow still conscious John by his injured shoulder dragging him over to the glass wall where Sherlock had yet to have moved his face still impassive but entire body tight and angry, face dark, the Master swiped his hand across Johns face before writing a message on the glass for Sherlock;

"LEAVE LUCY ALONE AND I WILL LEAVE YOUR DOCTOR ALONE"

Sherlock finally grimaced. The master thought that he had won. Until he watched Sherlock pick up a bottle of sulphuric acid and a bottle of cyanide dropping both on the floor with a small tight spiteful smirk on his face.

The master cursed unbreakable glass, pulling out his screwdriver diving for the thankfully unlocked door clearing the room of the poisonous gas produced by the combination hoping that Sherlock's time lord genes would help him combat cyanide intake. Forcefully plunging the cyanide antidote into Sherlock's neck watching him take a few spluttering breaths before passing out alive.

Both Sherlock and John had been placed into the infirmary under guard protection within minutes. The Master planning on going to find somewhere to rest his nerves when he had received news that Martha had been spotted in Japan and they were in the process of tracking her down. The next piece of news however did not please him.

Mycroft and Lestrade had left the complex without regards to safety and were unescorted. The Master at first hadn't minded monitoring both the Martha situation as well as the Mycroft situation from afar for the rest of the day.

However it became apparent toward the end of it that his day was going from bad to worse . After the rather amusing Toclafane incident several things became apparent. One was that Martha was definitely in Japan, and the other was that someone had put up signal blockers throughout the town and that just after meeting the Toclafane Mycroft and Lestrade had disappeared off his radar all together, the Toclafane also out of communication.

All hell would break loose he swore. The Master marched to the deck of the valiant finding the doctor in his tent pulling the old man from his tent viciously throwing him by his lapels across the room before swooping over him hovering nose to nose with him.

"Where is Martha Doctor" he hissed spraying the Doctor in spittle looking far more insane than normal, the look of a man slowly losing control.

The Doctor stared up at him eyes tired and blank staring ahead face blank as always the Master finally growling pushing off of him and storming out from the deck.

It was heading onto sun down when it became apparent that Martha had escaped, Sherlock had recovered but was now in a healing coma, in all his bandage and wrap refused to cooperate even on threat of pain of Death and was not only sticking by Sherlock's side but guarding him with the ferocity of a mother tiger.

Mycroft and Lestrade were still nowhere to be seen. He'd been fighting the urge to go down to earth himself, but it was so clearly a trap that he couldn't allow himself that pleasure. He had to keep his eyes on the radar and wait for any sign of Mycroft or even Lestrade and get them back immediately, or he may be forced to start making announcements for the impending destruction of 1000 people an hour until Mycroft turned himself in.

For all he knew Mycroft was with Martha at this very moment plotting against him.

The moment the Master had seen Mycroft appear on his radar he wasted not a moment, quickly reaching for his laser screwdriver he summoned him to his rooms, a knot he had felt in his chest that he hadn't realized he'd being holding was instantly released. He would deal with Lestrade later but for now the only thing that mattered was Mycroft Holmes.

He had sent Mycroft to his rooms as it was one place that even the great Iceman felt truly lost unto the world. And it was the one place that the master had full control of him, even on the Valiant.

The Master had arrived to find the Iceman sitting on a chair by the fire a glass of finest scotch beside him looking deeply into the fireplace as if throwing himself into it would somehow be his salvation. The Master not for the first time wondered if he hadn't pushed them too hard, judging by Sherlock's actions earlier that day, it was a distinct possibility.

Mycroft seemed to notice that the Master had arrived and stood up as if almost to attention, ignoring the scotch while impassively looking at the Master for some clues as to his mood. The Master thinking of a teenage boy knowing he has done something wrong but determined to take it like a man.

After the long day of worrying and anger and frustration, the Master felt a delicious thought brewing within his, he was old enough to be this man's father, and perhaps it was indeed time to use this to his advantage. Not wanting another suicide attempt in one day. Both Holmes boys were on edge as it was it seemed.

"Did your mother ever take another man？"

"Yes master, when it became apparent that the Doctor wouldn`t be returning she…dated？"

"and Why would you say that is？"

"She was of the belief that Sherlock and I, needed a male role model in our life... After Sherlock started Acting out"

"Did any of, them ever touch you" asked the master suggestively, causing Mycroft to pull a face.

"Do you have to be so crass, no they did not"

"But I imagine that they felt the need to keep you in line, possibly punish you for being such a posh little tosser?" Mycroft frowned starting to understand where this was going wondering and knowing that lying wouldn't work.

"Only one of her boyfriends did, Sherlock had informed him that he knew that he was cheating on mother, all of 5 years old, of course I knew far more than that, like with whom, being the scullery maid, where, being the pantry and when being before having a dinner with us" Mycroft stopped a moment to see if he should continue, and so he did.

"Sherlock being Sherlock didn't understand why the man was angry, demanding he keep it to himself and tried to smack him. Of course I wouldn't allow it, informing him if he raised a hand to him there would be dire consequences for both he and the maid... "Mycroft stopped knowing that this was what the Master had been for.

"He lost his temper, placing me over a nearby chair and took his belt to me, demanding both Sherlock and I remain silent, he had too much of a good thing going. Only a few smacks mind you, before he reigned in his temper…"

"We of course took great pleasure in revealing the scoundrel to mummy, Sherlock looked positively luminescing with pleasure as the man was forcibly removed by our butler... That was the last man until after Sherlock and I left home. "Mycroft smiled humourlessly deciding not to mention how much the man looked like the Doctor, How every man that his mother ever dated looked like the Doctor, waiting for the Master to make his fairly obvious next move.

The Master nodded fingers slipping to caress his belt thoughtfully as if the idea of belting him brought him no small amount of satisfaction, watching Mycroft standing still waiting.

"You went off radar! Were you meeting with rebels! "the master growled Mycroft raised an eyebrow upon hearing that, he had thought the cuffs were fool proof. Giving the master a look that said 'most certainly did not'. The Master frowned thoughtfully at him awaiting a verbal response.

"No Master I was doing the job you had assigned me, The rebels cornered us on our way back, and you saved us, they recognised me as a traitor, we shouldn't have been out so late, I was carried away by planning, I apologies "

The Master was inwardly grinning, wondering if Mycroft would have said something like that months ago. "I believe you were warned about punishment if you failed to utilise your gift properly, you should have known better Miky"

The short nod from Mycroft suggested that it (the failure) was inevitable. Waiting for his sentence suddenly wishing he was facing the Toclafane again. "Of course Master, how do you want me? "

"Bent over the chair of course" The Master sang pleasantly watching Mycroft do just that standing to the side to admire the curve of his backside for such a long moment that Mycroft was beginning to wonder if this was some kind of joke.

The Master stepped forward his belt in one hand, his free hand resting on Mycroft's lower back. "I hope that you realise that I'm doing this for your own good Mycroft, this hurts me far more than it hurts you"

Mycroft was a millisecond from rolling his eyes, wondering how to tell the Master that he played a shit father figure when the belt snapped across his backside, earning not even a jump from Mycroft. The Master decided that it was because he'd become desensitised and brought the belt down with more force.

The Master quickly losing his temper as Mycroft refused to show any emotion the belt clearly not doing anything to bring out any sort of traumatic memories. Mycroft managing to remain silent through every hit. The Master getting closer to using the belt to throttle him than beat him any thoughts of fatherly behaviour out the window.

"Strip" the Master growled watching Mycroft's steady hands quickly removing his clothing waiting for further orders, his face slightly red with the exertion. Backside, thighs and lower back a darkening red colour. Standing before the Master waiting for further instructions, clearly no longer caring about himself.

"Sherlock tried to kill himself today. He apparently doesn't appreciate me using his Doctor for football." Mycroft spun around his face no longer a mask his mouth opening to ask the vital questions only to find that the Master had his screw driver in hand, his arms automatically flying over his head raising him off the ground leaving him hanging in mid-air by the cuffs that had been placed on his wrists upon leaving.

The master had somehow gagged him his laser screwdrivers end suddenly glowing a bright red as a whip like end appeared at the end, the Master not giving him a chance to argue, a blood lust brought on by Mycroft's consistent refusal to give the Master any sound of pain.

The first slap of the Laser Screwdrivers whip instantly pulled a scream from Mycroft, the last one met with silence as he hung from the chain too tired to even scream, the gag long ago removed, bathed in sweat the Master released the hold on the cuffs allowing him to drop down. Feeling at peace with himself now. The sight of bloody stripes and bruising and pain exactly what he had needed after a day like this.

He picked Mycroft up dropping him over the side of the bed, wondering about using him completely, dragging his fingers over the cuts allowing Mycroft a moment to catch his breath, suddenly reminded of how tired he was.

"Will you ever disappoint me again?" asked the Master purely for the need to hear Mycroft to submit. His fingers slipping across each deep welt toward the crack of his backside. Fully prepared to continue hurting him until he got what he wanted.

"I hope not Master…" Mycroft dragged in a pained breath as the Master stood up and away from him allowing him to standing up, not beaten to the point of being unable to walk. " I know what will happen if I do Master"

The Master actually grinned at that throwing back his clothing, before sauntering out of the door. "Sherlock's alive." He said over his shoulder transporting Mycroft back to the complex as Mycroft was still pulling on his trousers. Deciding to locate Lucy to let her know how much trouble she had caused…

TBC


End file.
